


Evening Shadows

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst, F/F, Femslash February, First Person Narrative, Fluff, Guns, Lesbian, Past Moira/Mercy, Past Pharah/Sombra, Pharmercy, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Spiderbyte, Violence, Yuri, buckle up for the SS Pharmercy folks, lesbians...lesbians everywhere.jpg, lil bits of genyatta and ice bears in here too, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: It is the late 1940's, and Fareeha Amari is a private investigator. As she falls harder in love with a woman that has completely captured her heart, Fareeha finds that there is a sinister evil at work in the streets of Seattle; and gets a client that will change her life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Well here it is, at long last! For Femslash February, I finally decided to do a multi-chapter Pharmercy story that will actually update regularly. I hope you don't mind me putting a few things before you continue as this is my first big story that I have written (for these guys anyway), and I have actually already written a few chapters of this. 
> 
> 1 - This is incredibly AU from the canon of Overwatch. This is my own personal interpretation of Pharah, Mercy and everyone else involved. This is also a story that is intended to be represented in the 1940s, but don't expect historical correctness as it's mostly just for an aesthetic perspective. I apologize if anything is incorrect in a history way!  
> 2 - This is a slow-burn story told from Pharah's perspective. Pharah and Mercy are the primary romance, and Pharah has had a previous relationship with Sombra. They are no longer involved and there's no cheating from either of them there, so you can rest easy in the knowledge of this being a Pharmercy jam.  
> 3 - In a similar light, there will be sex in this story, so please keep that in mind for NSFW reasons.  
> 4 - I'll try my best to put these kinds of warnings at the beginning of every chapter where necessary, but here's a general catch-all warning for violence, alcohol, smoking and blood.  
> 5 - Updates will be between 5-7 days each. I think that's everything, so I hope you enjoy it!

My name is Fareeha Amari. I’m thirty-two, and I’m a private investigator.

Lately, I’ve been learning more about the human race than I ever cared to know.

One thing that has been the most prominently on the forefront is that I’ve been learning all about the greatest motivator in the world - emotions.

In some form or another, emotions are always the foundation of reason – of a meaningful life. So when I signed up for the life of a private eye, especially after leaving somewhere as stoic and set in their ways as the army, I knew – even _before_ the last few years of my life – that so many of the cases would get hairy, and fast. The kinds of cases I would get…the ones that I _did_ get, even, are all ones that the police either can’t or won’t help with nowadays.

Here in Seattle, it’s cold this time of year. It’s autumnal. It’s November, and the blaze of autumnal leaves are scattered across the floor like dancing flames, with a satisfying crunch beneath your boots that almost makes you want to dance over them. Sometimes I feel like I’m dancing _in_ the flames, and I’m sure some of my previous clients wish I was.

Theft. Fraud. Murder. Kidnap. So many different cases; so many different ways for someone to ache. There was no way to possibly be the colossal band-aid over every issue people had, but I could certainly at least try to apply the relief. Sometimes that was even to my detriment.

“You’re too nice, Fareeha,” my mother would say to me sometimes, and that was usually as she sparked up on one of my cigarettes in the seat across from me. “You can’t do these cases for free, no matter how much you want to help others. You’ll go under if you aren’t careful.”

“I can’t let little kids crying on my doorstep go without parents, ma.”

“You _can’t_ , but you can at _least_ get a little of their pocket money.”

I turned around with a scowl at her attempt at a joke. She laughed, and waved a dismissive hand through the tobacco’s smoke.

“Oh Fareeha, I’m just pulling your leg! Come on, let’s go and buy you a drink.”

Despite my mother’s slightly insensitive jokes, she did have a good heart. A very good heart. She felt just like I did, in the end – and that was that people needed to help each other, even if that did make me more and more jaded, day after day. The world could always use more heroes, after all. Whether I was or not was up to others to judge.

Whatever my mother’s worries were about my finances, she knew as well as I did that business was booming; _that_ was for certain. Despair and anxiety was a well-oiled machine, and people would pay any amount of money to quell that. And _financially_ , I was glad for that. It meant that I could sit in my creaky leather seat in a vague attempt at getting comfortable, eating all the cup noodles and drinking all the black coffees I want, whilst ignoring the intermingling smell of processed chicken stock blanketing the harsh twang of my coffee.

But being _worldly_ glad, I was not. Society sickened me more and more by the day, and it was getting tough to stomach. The depths of the abyss that people could sink to always surprised me, no matter what I came face to face with. On particularly horrifying cases, I had to take days off.

I haven’t taken a day off since this case came up.

A case that I never wanted. Never isn’t a strong enough word to express how much I did not want this to land on me.

One of my best friends – Brigitte Lindholm – was almost murdered near her workplace. Bludgeoned over the head, left to rot against the pavement, bleeding from the neck and stomach.

And the culprit? Still not caught to this day. It’s been four weeks since then.

“Fareeha, please, you have to help us!” Her mother, Ingrid, had cried against my table. I remember her mascara running down her cheeks, and seeing that she was wracked with sobs into her hands before I could even respond.

I felt the weight of the world crushing down on my shoulders, as I looked at Brigitte’s two sisters before me. I didn’t like this any more than they did, but I knew it was even worse for them.

“Please, Fareeha…you know what the police are like in this town.”

“We’ll pay! We’ll pay whatever you need!”

The knot inside my stomach churned, and I exhaled; repressing the sting of sorrow behind my eyes at the idea of Brigitte – a woman who was exceptionally strong – could be the recipient of an attack like this. I rest my elbows on my desk, propping up my chin with my fingers.

“You know I’m not going to refuse you, right?”

“Fareeha…”

I closed my eyes in exasperation. In _grief_. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“…Damn it, Brigitte…”

Ingrid fumbled around in her leather purse; scrambling with the frantic push of hysteria quivering in her fingers, and got out her wallet. My eyes widened, and I held out my hands.

“Ingrid, I don’t -”

“No. No, no, no. We’re paying you for this. You can’t do this just – just because -”

“I don’t need your money, Ingrid. Ingrid, stop. _Stop_.”

I placed my hands over hers, and it broke my heart to feel not just how cold they were to the touch, but also how they trembled. She clasped the paper in her hands, and eventually, the notes fell back down into her purse like feathers.

The warmth of my hand over hers sparked off her feelings of grief all over again. I must have had her in my arms for at least an hour crying, with her sisters not much better off.

Brigitte Lindholm and I were great friends. Best friends, as I mentioned - and we had been for a long time.

I knew I could talk to her about anything. She knew about my current, juvenile-feeling crush on the cute girl running the bar downstairs, even if I neglected to tell her that it was _more_ than just a crush; she knew all about my cases, and how they affected me mentally.  
  
I, in turn, knew all about how she felt swamped by looking after her siblings, how she was working at Reinhardt Wilhelm’s garage, Eichenwelders, and all about how she had a crush on an English woman, only to find out she was married.

We knocked back quite a few drinks _that_ night.

It was a horrible sensation, to feel powerless to help somebody you cared for. Whilst I was emotionally hurting for her safety, Brigitte was the one truly hurting, comatose and with plastic tubes running along her nose; crusted blood against the back of her head. I didn’t even want to think about the other gory details of her attack, but I sure as hell did want to find out who did this to her; and why. It made me furious to think about it.

In the last four weeks, alongside the mystery of Brigitte, I had also been getting a flurry of requests to find missing persons. A spate of kidnappings. The general saying is that if 24 hours pass, your loved one is probably dead, or the chance of finding them becomes very, _very_ slim. I had to turn down many people over the last two weeks, completely stripped of any availability to find them.

It was the most peculiar sensation – it was as though they had just vanished off of the face of the earth.

Between the missing persons and Brigitte, I was always stuck with all of the nasty cases.

That, largely, was thanks to our local police’s incompetence, which in turn, was married to their own indifference. It was a marriage that had a mutual, flourishing love. Though to be honest, I really shouldn’t be that angry with them, considering that I’ve been doing just fine in this profession thanks to that.

So that’s me. I’ve got my cliché. I’ve got my suit and tie; my haggard, exhausted demeanour, my messy hair, a never ending supply of whiskey and cigarettes; everything’s been just what I expected. It’s been grand; grander than grand; or so I’d like to say. Life always does find a way of kicking you in the face when you least expect it, doesn’t it?

-

On this bitterly cold November’s day in particular, I had just gotten back from yet another fruitless lead.

I stopped at a payphone before making my way home to let Ingrid know nothing was coming up lately. She always answered instantly; and despite the inevitable disappointment I would be forced to bring her, she always reinforced that she believed in me. I could hear the chatter and scream of children in the background of every call. I couldn’t bring myself to think about what a loss Brigitte would be for the stability of their family.

“Just…do your best, Fareeha. That’s all you can do,” she resignedly spoke, and I could practically hear the expression on her face. “Give my regards to Angela when you see her, would you?”

I felt my heart skip a beat at the mention of a name I knew well.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright…you take care, now.”

Today was a wash, and I was frustrated. Why wasn’t I getting _anywhere_? No reports on the people missing, no evidence for Brigitte’s family. I felt annoyed more than anything else.

My eyes stung with the incessant ache of exhaustion, and my lips were tingling for the sensation of cigarette paper to be between them. I didn’t realize it back then…but this was the first night of a few days that would change my life forever.

On this first night, after the day I’d had, the scenery was even more of a welcome sight than usual.

The sky was soothing my soul with its beautiful sunset orange; the horizon was decorated by wispy clouds of a navy blue night closing in. I almost felt relaxed.

The sounds around my ears on the street was typical; familiar, comforting, and a nice draw back to reality from the churning of my own thoughts. The sight of happy couples dotted around town, quiet laughter from the bars and cafes with their umbrella tables outside, despite the freezing cold – and the tell-tale sign of a workday finished by bike bells ringing, seeing people home safe. There was the crisp smell of autumn in the air; the harsh winds hitting my nose with a sting, and I always did hate the feeling of having cold eyes from the weather.

I trudged along the cobbled concrete, my boots scraping against the grey nonchalantly.

I loosened my tie from my neck, draped my jacket over my arm, and sparked up a cigarette. I almost gagged and looked at the packet contemptuously. My favourite brand was The Blue Raptora – my least favourite was Lucky Hit.

“Eugh…”

 _Cheap cigarettes_. I had forgotten I had to skimp out on the good stuff this time.

I leant back against the wall of a building; the bricks were cold against my shirt’s back, and I took long, _long_ drags of my unsavoury cigarette. It had been an equally long day, and one that led me to more routes of nothing. No new evidence, no real witnesses. I was just retracing steps I’d _already_ retraced, and visiting witness spots I’d already gone to a thousand times before. I didn’t have any other options yet. I felt frustrated beyond description.

I found myself looking up at the burning skyline once more, and all of the city buildings before me. I usually got lost in my thoughts with a view like this; and there’s only ever been one woman resting in my thoughts right there with me.

Angela Ziegler; a gorgeous, Swiss bombshell of a woman who worked in the place below my ‘office’, which was just fancy lingo for ‘my apartment’. Angela was the kind of lady that I knew I could spend forever looking at, and always finding new ways to love her.

I’d initially told Brigitte that it was just a crush - that Angela Ziegler was just ‘pretty’, a cute girl that I liked to chat with every now and then, no big deal. But in reality, I was enamoured with her. I knew that I adored her more than anything else in the world, and the little moments we shared so often meant so much. And I felt as though she felt that way for me too, through so many instances. All of the almost kisses, the long goodnights. I always wanted to be at her side.

We’d known each other for a while, now. Almost a year, ever since she got here from the east coast.

I smirked through the smoke of my cigarette remembering how we met.

“Oh!” Angela had said, almost dropping a box full of the bar’s belongings; and I had caught it on my way out of the door. I scuffled past the wood of the door, throwing my jacket down against the flowerpots outside, and caught the cardboard box just in time.

“Close call, huh?” I said, without looking up. Angela breathed a sigh of relief.

“God, thank y…”

I felt like Cupid had foregone the arrows and just thrown the bow right at my face; or perhaps my lungs, considering how I felt as though the breath had left them.

“Oh…”

Her bright blue eyes looked back at mine, and I could see she felt the same bewildered sensation.

She blinked twice.

“Um…I’m sorry to trouble you.” Angela replied, infectious in her natural warmth, and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her voice was light and airy, and I felt as though my heart were being carried away on the sound. “I should probably give some explanation, shouldn’t I? Haha. I’m moving in my stuff in for the bar downstairs, you see. I’ll be working here from now on, if you come here often! Nike’s Chariot is the name. Pretty, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Really?” I replied with a bright smile, still holding the heavy box in my hands. “I do! Uh, come here often, that is. Well, I work upstairs, see. I’m a private investigator. And, yeah…the name is beautiful.”

I fumbled in my back pocket haphazardly, and scrambled as I handed her my business card. She glanced at it in her hands.

“Thank you! So you’re Miss Amari, then?” Angela asked with a bright smile, and held out her hand. “I’m Angela. Angela Ziegler.”

“Oh! It’s nice to – hold on…” I fumbled and shifted the box’s weight onto one of my arms, and outstretched my other to shake her hand. I cleared my throat with a laugh. “Nice to meet you, miss. And please, just call me Fareeha. It sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“And the same for you! Angela’s fine. It’s lovely to meet you, too…Fareeha.”

We stood for a moment, in silence, just…looking. I felt my heart racing like it had never raced before.

That was interrupted by the loud clang of the metal utensils falling out of the bottom of the cardboard box I was holding, to which both of us looked in awe at them rattling against the floor.

Our eyes met again, and both of us started laughing. I shook my head in disbelief at the timing.

“My god, the secret’s out. I’ve never been known for my box-holding skills.”

“Truly, the manoeuvre of the cardboard box hold outweighs all of us.”

We both chuckled.

“Well…” Angela had said, hesitant to leave after we’d helped each other pick up the slightly battered excuses of coffee pots, and metal beer jugs at our feet. “I’ll see you soon, Fareeha. Don’t be a stranger. And…thanks for the help.”

I smiled at her, and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Anytime, Angela.”

I think it was in that moment that I’d fallen in love with her. The moment I met her. I didn’t put much stock into love at first sight, but that sensation certainly was something unexplainable. Something that I hadn’t ever been able to rationalize or brush off, no matter how I tried. Something that was so powerful and unrelenting…I’ve never been able to get over it.

Every time I saw her, I wanted to kiss her lips. I wanted to hold her tight. I felt such a sense of longing like no other that I could ever compare it to. And sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – Angela would come with me on my cases on her days off, to spend the time with me on the lesser dangerous ones.

I refused to take her along with me on the bigger ones – that was almost the entire reason we weren’t together.

I hated the idea of her getting hurt, and worse still, being targeted because of me. I wanted to always protect her.

We’d talk, we’d go on impromptu dates that totally weren’t dates (but most definitely were), and as a result, she’d seen some of the grizzly side of Seattle.

Over the months that followed, she grew to know me, inside and out. I knew her just as well. But I really was terrified to be involved with somebody that I so desperately wanted to protect.

I didn’t want any of my emotional baggage to weigh her down…or my absence on a near constant basis, investigating things, to impact her too much. I kept up the façade of thinking that _maybe_ , if we never made it official, it wouldn’t bother either of us as much.

I rolled my eyes at myself. It was _obviously_ working so far, right?

I’m just kidding. Both you and myself.

I soon felt myself being pulled out of the warm, comfortable reminisce of Angela Ziegler as my cigarette prickled; its heat glowering towards my fingertips. The cold sting of the bitter wind pinched at my nose again, and I felt a contemptuous grumble rise into my throat.

“Damn it.”

I exhaled my last intake of tobacco in a draconian fashion, before stomping it out on the pavement, running a hand over my face to wake myself up a little more, and flung my suit jacket over my shoulder.

 _I’m so damn tired_ , I remember thinking.

But seeing the place where I lived; the place where I drank, did my work, and shared the building with the woman I loved; it always warmed my heart. The only downside was wishing I could give Angela everything she deserved, and not being able to do that.

I _loved_ coming home at night. I loved staying up a little later just to talk to her. The night always made every day so worthwhile. No matter how tired I was, no matter the events of the day.

I always had time for her.

Escaping the bitter winds, I heard the faint tinkle of the bell as I opened the bar door, and listened as it soothed my ears with familiarity. And there she was; as golden as ever, even in the middle of autumn, right before my eyes. My constant source of a summer’s sun.

She was always a welcome sight, and her voice a welcome sound.

My eyes softened from the harsh frown I’d worn all day as I met her ocean blue gaze. She smiled at me, and her expression softened under the dim lights over the barstools.

“Welcome home, Fareeha.” She said warmly with a smile, and I couldn’t restrain one of equal measure in return.

“Thanks, Angela. It’s a pleasure to see you, as always.”

I pulled up a stool to the bar, and closed my eyes for a brief moment as I sat.

Even with the large bias of Angela’s presence, I truly did love this place. It was comfortable, relaxing to be amongst the ambience of the atmosphere, and full of so many different types of lives led. It was fascinating to see the regulars.

The jukebox lit up, playing scratchy records of years past through its tinny-sounding speaker, and effortlessly illuminated the dark corner of the bar; neon treasures of golden yellow and flamingo pink, dancing against its edges in lines. I could hear behind me that there were two girls playing darts, laughing and talking between smokes and drinks, whilst another was sat at a table, looking excited; prim and proper, waiting on what looked like a date.

Angela turned around from me to face the copious amounts of coloured glass bottles behind her.

“The usual, is it?”

“God, yes please. Make it a double.”

Angela smiled into her voice.

“Coming right up.”

The therapeutic clink of alcohol bottles knocked together with each other, before following with a clink of the nozzle against a glass tumbler; pouring the amber liquid over two large ice cubes. She slid the drink to me across the counter, and it felt as though I’d of never had a better one before in my life.

“There you go. Drink up.”

“Thanks, doll.”

Angela leant on the counter’s top, and I felt a little euphoric between the alcohol and being able to smell her perfume. I couldn’t help but lean a little closer to her. She never seemed to mind.

“Rough day, liebling?”

“…Rough doesn’t cover it.” I grinned back, running a hand through my hair, and tapping out another cigarette from my packet. “What about you? Did you do anything interesting?”

Angela chuckled, as she sat down on a stool in front of me.

“Self-medicating, mostly.”

“Hey, alcohol is a great healer.”

Angela laughed again, before she tapped the cigarette box next to me. I raised my eyebrows, and she looked at me sternly with a smile.

“You know, smoking’s bad for your health. How are you supposed to keep your devilishly good looks with them always hanging out of your mouth, hm?”

I smirked, and then sighed.

“I’ve got to have _something_ keeping me going until I can come home to you.”

Angela paused, and I could hear in the silence that she was touched by my words.

I didn’t realize how sentimental I had come across. I also didn’t realize just how much I meant it.

I ran a hand through my hair again as I took a sip of my drink; bone weary and tired beyond description. She looked at me sympathetically.

“…Still no leads, hm?”

“A big fat zero on progress.” I replied. “I feel pretty hopeless, Angela. Maybe I really should just wait ‘til she wakes up and see if she remembers anything. But who knows when that would be? Not to mention Ingrid is insisting on paying me all this cash, and I can’t even deliver her the results. Oh, and she says hi, by the way.”

Angela smiled as sympathetically as she looked, and leaned her head against her hand.

“Well, tell Ingrid I said hi too, when you get the chance. But that attitude isn’t like you, Fareeha.” Angela said, placing the glass back on the counter and putting her hands on her curves. “You aren’t hopeless at all. This is a very difficult case, you know? When was the last time you had to deal with something this personal?”

“Well, I’m not sure I _ever_ have, on the job. Not since Sombra and I split up, and that was years ago now.”

“Exactly. You’re doing the best with what you have, and that’s all you can do. There must be some skeletons in the closet somewhere, Fareeha. I know you’ve got the resource to sniff it out, too.”

I smiled at Angela’s determination, and she nodded to me with her infectious enthusiasm.

“…Thanks, Angela. What would I do without you?”

“You’ll never have to know, as long as you can put up with me.”

I chuckled into my drink.

“You know full well that you’re the best part of my day.”

Angela blushed.

“You are too charming for your own good, Fareeha Amari. That silver tongue will get you in trouble one day.”

We both grinned at one another – and I was grateful for all of Angela’s support. Her words always healed me when I felt down, and I wished I could tell her that without sounding like a fool. I wished more than anything that I could just _be_ with her, that I could wake up to her in my arms every day. But I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Not right now.

Not whilst I had so much going on in my life.

This way, if she met somebody that could give her what I couldn’t, then…well, I always wanted her to be happy.

I stopped depressing myself with my thoughts, and took another sip of my drink. I nodded firmly.

“Yeah…I know you’re right.” I replied. “I’m just feeling a little frazzled, I think.”

Angela stood up from her stool, and walked over to the sink a few metres away from us to begin washing up the glasses.

“Well, we’ve all had those days. _Especially_ you, with how much you have to run around after people. It’s a tiring line of work, Fareeha. We could both really use the time off, I think.”

“It’s certainly that. I wish I could…could just _get_ somewhere, you know? I’ve been getting nowhere for six weeks, and I usually have cases wrapped up in a maximum of two. Not to mention that Emily’s hands are so tied down at the station that she could barely even lift a finger to help me, no matter how good of terms we’re on.”

Angela’s brow furrowed as she turned her head slightly, still cleaning the glasses as she spoke.

“Poor Emily...is she still the chief detective down at the precinct?”

“Yeah. She’s swamped, especially with her big cases all coming up in court lately. After Brigitte told me she had a crush on somebody English, I didn’t dare tell her at the time that it was probably the chief’s wife!”

Both Angela and myself laughed nostalgically, thinking fondly of Brigitte and her misguided affections; and I felt a sad sensation in my heart of longing for her to wake up.

Angela noticed my expression.

“…I know.” She mumbled in reply to my face. “I feel the same.”

I paused, and took a sip of my drink.

“I really hope we get whoever did this to her.”

Angela nodded firmly, and as she stood, placed the glass down on the shelf above her. “Me, too. Give me a second, I’ve just gotta serve some other people.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.”

I closed my eyes as Angela moved down the bar to serve another customer, and I felt as though I had closed them for just a second too long. They stung, and they stung bad. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I squeezed my eyes shut.

When was the last time I even slept properly…?

I turned to my right to look at the customers she was serving, and I felt a smile come on my lips at the sight of two young women in love, doting on each other. I knew Angela was touched by the sensation just as much, at that; and when she returned, I couldn’t help but slip words of gratitude from my lips.

 “Thanks, Angela…for always listening to me.”

Angela slowed in her tracks a little as she gathered the women’s drinks together, and I heard the smile in her voice.

“…Of course.”

After she’d finished serving the couple next to us, we talked a while longer; I was content letting the heat of the alcohol burn in my chest for a while, and she was happy relishing in her turnover of profits. The burn of my whiskey was comforting and warm, just like the bar, and it was easing the pain away, if only a little.

The hours passed as I spoke to Angela. I asked for numerous refills; I forget how many, even now. Eventually, I felt a dizziness in my head from drinking a _little_ too much. I wasn’t drunk, thankfully – I always did hate getting drunk – but I was definitely making friends with being tipsy.

“Alright…I’m off to bed.” I managed to say clearly, and felt my footing slipping out a little from under me. “Oof!”

Angela grabbed my arm as a support, and pulled me up on my heels a bit steadier over the bar.

“Hey, hey, careful! You okay?” she asked me with smiling concern, and – at the time, I didn’t know it would be such a pivotal changing point in my life – but that’s when _she_ walked up behind us.

“Pardon me. Are you Miss Amari?”

I didn’t really look up from the floor at first. I was too tired to care if somebody had issues they wanted to take up with me about anything I’d done. Or at least, that was what I assumed.

“Who wants to know?” I replied, nonchalantly. I looked up to face her, and I felt surprised by the sight before me.

“You’ll find that out soon enough.”

The woman before me smiled; taking the arm that Angela was holding onto by a slight, persuasive force, and that was when I began to notice the inflection of an accent in her voice.

“If you don’t mind,” the mysterious woman spoke softly to Angela. “I’ll be able to take it from here.”

Her voice was so… _smooth_. Smooth and unfamiliar, and with a foreign tinge to it…Spanish?

No… _French_.

“Is everything alright?” I asked. Her eyes faltered.

She was beautiful to look at, I’ll give her that.

She had long, flowing, almost navy blue hair; amber eyes that burned, and a smirk to kill. She was confident in herself, in her appearance and whatever job she’d been doing before coming here, but underneath the façade, I could sense it; she was hurting. She was hurting more than she could ever tell anyone.

Angela, at the side of this unusual coupling, was irritated at her patronizing. She spoke a little briskly with the woman holding onto me, who promptly scoffed afterwards.

 “Excuse me,” Angela began, “but the bar is closing soon. Miss Amari has had a little to drink tonight, and her offices closed hours ago. So come back _tomorrow_ , alright?”

The French woman waved a dismissive hand.

“I am entitled to talk to whoever I please. This doesn’t have to be a business discussion. Why is it your business to know my own?”

“You can clearly see she isn’t in a fit state to talk right now.”

“Good. Then she can listen.”

Angela looked as though she was about to throw a punch at the flippant nature of the French woman before her, and I instantly felt more sober at the reality of the situation.

I faced the woman holding onto my arm, and gently removed her hand. Angela sulked.

“Look,” I said calmly to the stranger, “She’s right. I _have_ had a bit to drink, and I am incredibly tired. Not to mention office hours closed at least three hours ago. I’m not rejecting whatever it is that you want to see me for; I’d be more than happy to help you tomorrow when I know I can provide my service to the best of my ability, ma’am. We can even set a specific time around whenever’s best for you.”

The blue haired woman looked taken aback by my siding with Angela, and she cleared her throat. The rest of the bar had noticed the potential drama of the budding commotion, and all of the patrons – the three of us included – readjusted ourselves and regained composure.

Soon the chatter of the bar was back, and the sound of darts and glasses clinking could be heard faintly once more. They had all lost interest.

I didn’t really know _what_ to say, and neither did Angela, after that. We exchanged a mutual look of confusion, and I adjusted my shirt to be a little neater. The blue-haired woman let out a sigh as she rested a hand on her hip.

 “…My apologies.” She stated flatly, and I folded my arms; but I noticed her lip quivering as she looked away. Her voice was shaky as she spoke, and her amber eyes were pleading.

“Okay,” she began once more, a little more emotional. “I’m sorry to bother you. I really am. But please…I need your help. I know you must be so tired, and I know you’ve had a drink or two, but you _are_ Miss Amari…Private Investigator. Correct?”

I blinked in surprise, and so did Angela.

“Uh…yes, I am.”

 “May I please spend the night at your apartment?”

I felt my back prickle up with the heat of suggesting something so forwardly, and my head was spinning a little again.

“ _Stay_? Overnight?”

She looked at me, resolute and unwavering.

“Yes.”

“I mean…” I limply said, with questions present in my voice, “Are you sure you need to stay with me? If you’re looking for some kind of evidence or something on my person, I don’t keep that stuff in my office. And I’m sure there’re plenty of motels about this part of town, if you don’t live here usually.”

“I’m not looking to you about other cases… _Fareeha_.”

A lightning bolt struck me with the last few syllables of her sentence. This _wasn’t_ a stranger. She knew my first name.

Had I met her somewhere before…?

I frowned, and folded my arms. I was feeling a _lot_ more sober now. Angela was stood next to me, her arms folded and tapping one foot with the annoyance she felt towards the woman before me.

I looked at the blue haired woman before me, and I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sigh to prevent my eyes culminating any more of their sandpaper feeling.

“Alright, alright…” I resigned. “Fine. You win. We can talk in my office. But you understand that I’m exhausted, _and_ that I’ve had alcohol, right?”

“I do. I very much appreciate the short notice. I’ll pay you triple the going rate for your time.”

I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion.

“…Please go up and wait outside the door on the left. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

I saw her sharp demeanour fading, and a relief washed over us both. I furrowed my brow.

Staying overnight was awfully peculiar, unless she was bluffing for some reason.

“Thank you.” she replied curtly, and made her way past the bar counter and up the stairs.

I turned around to face Angela, who looked at me with an expression of concern. I made a noise of disbelief, and she folded her arms.

“You…just be careful up there with her tonight, okay?”

“I’m not gonna sleep with her, Angela.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I cursed under my breath. Angela flustered.

“That is not what I meant!” She replied quickly, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “Fareeha, I…just make sure you know what you’re doing, okay? You’ve had a bit to drink, and…”

I knew what she meant. I knew right away that she didn’t want me to sleep with her. And god, at that moment, I just wanted to take her in my arms and tell her that was never going to happen because _fuck_ , Angela, I love you with all my heart and soul, and I’m so sorry that I can’t be what you need right now.

“Angela…” I began. “I promise, I’ll be just fine. If it comes to it, I have a gun, right?”

Angela paused; her worried expression not fading even remotely; before she finally let out a sigh, putting her hands on her curves once more, and smiling warmly at me.

“Alright, Fareeha.” she said hesitantly, and I could tell I hadn’t reassured her at all. “If she needs a bed that isn’t in your room, let me know and I’ll put out the doghouse for her in the back. With the beer kegs. And the garbage.”

I laughed, as I swung my jacket coat over my shoulder, and left her a generous tip on the counter.

“Sleep well, Angela. See you tomorrow. Behave whilst I’m gone, okay?”

“Hey!” she called after me with a laugh, seeing the tip on the countertop, as I waved back behind me before climbing the stairs.

What I heard next was faint, but it came with a smile.

“…Goodnight, Fareeha. Be careful.”

And my heart was warm once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two everyone! This is another quite long chapter, and after this they'll be getting a little shorter...probably. Here you go, and enjoy!

After saying goodnight to Angela, I climbed the stairs to my apartment wearily; the sound of wooden creaks and clicks beneath my feet with each step. I exhaled into my hands as I rubbed my face over. The last thing I wanted to do right now was to talk to a new client, but with an offer of that much money, I couldn’t decline.

“Why the hell did I drink that last whiskey…”

The staircase was dimly lit, with nothing more than stringy lightbulbs illuminating the way up to my place; just next door to Angela’s own apartment. The smell of wood wafted gently upwards with each step from the floorboards, newly put in a few months ago, and I heard a clatter against a table near my door.

A familiar black cat sitting on a desk awaited me, next to the flowers I had outside my door in a small pot, in between myself and Angela’s respective apartments. Angela’s cat, Caduceus – or “Cady”, as she had often told me through a laugh - was always causing trouble in the cutest manner. I could never resist giving her cute head a pet every time.

“You’re such a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” I whispered quietly, smiling at the rumble of a purr against my hand.

Another noise joined the fray. A voice.

“Oh…”

My eyes instinctively sprung from one corner of the hall to another, until my eyes met with the source of the noise; and the eager, amber gaze of the woman from downstairs.

“Hey.”

She looked surprised by my casual response. To be honest, I was too tired and recovering back to sobriety to care much for formalities.

She smiled weakly at me through her lipstick.

“…Hello again, Miss Amari. I apologize for bothering you so late.”

She was sat on the waiting seats outside my door, as requested; with one leg over the other; the slit of her dress draped and revealing at the legs. I felt a little inappropriate even allowing my eyes to fall there, and quickly looked away.

“Shall we go inside?”

She shot up from her chair in a hasty manoeuvre, and I was shocked by feeling her hands grip to my arms.

“Please…” she pleaded. “Please, help me.”

I looked at her, intrigued, and watched as she became almost desperate in her pleading.

I noticed we were a little too close for comfort – the scent of her lavender perfume gently kissed my nose, whilst I could see the faint traces of faded, purple lipstick along her neck, hastily smudged off by her fingertips; but most of all, I could see the watery sting of the tears at the edges of her eyes.

I felt the weight drop in my stomach at seeing a woman crying, and rummaged around quickly in my pockets for some tissues.

“Hey, hey. It’ll be okay, whatever it is...” I replied sympathetically, and the woman before me couldn’t help but sob slightly. “Come on. Dry your eyes, miss, and let’s get to talking about whatever’s on your mind, alright?”

I placed my hands on hers gently, and removed them from my arm back to her hips as subtly as I possibly could.

She noticed, and laughed as she sniffled.

 “…My apologies. In my desperation to be helped, I suppose I was a little too close, non?”

“It’s alright. It’s not like that’s the first time that’s happened.” I replied, and I opened the creaky door to my office with an outstretched an arm. “Come on in.”

“With pleasure.”

As she dabbed at her eyes and walked inside, a cloud of lavender beauty, I inspected her appearance a little closer.

The most noticeable thing about her was her occupation from dress style alone; a singer. Some kind of jazz singer, or maybe even a residency performer from that outfit. I wondered if I knew her from some posters around town that I’d been seeing subconsciously. She did look a little familiar.  

Her coat was as beautiful as she was. Made of what looked like faux fur, it was stunningly lavish and white. She wore shining, silver earrings, with what looked like topaz in the middle, draping soft chains against the sides of her neck. Her dress was a piercing red beneath her coat, with the aforementioned slit of the dress revealing one, slender leg; and what kind of an outfit would this be without stilettos to kill?

“You sing for a living?” I finally asked.

She looked taken aback by my quick observation, before she smiled with a throaty chuckle.

“…I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the quick wits of a detective,” she admitted with a sniff, and dabbed her eyes to get rid of the last droplets of her tears. “Well done.”

I smiled with a boasting pride.

“Thought so. You look like you stepped off the stage just this moment.”

“Dress as you want to be judged,” the woman replied with a satisfied smirk.

I closed the door behind her with the familiar, satisfying click of the lock, and walked her into my office.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I…well…actually, a whiskey might be welcome.”

She looked around the room in curiosity as she walked, and slipped off her coat onto the chair before my desk.

“My, my. I’ve only just met you, and yet this apartment truly tells me everything I need to know about you, doesn’t it?”

I laughed, and walked around to the other side of my desk; closing the beige blinds behind me, and pouring a whiskey for the lady before slumping down in my seat and sparking up a smoke.

“And just what does _that_ mean?”

“You’re...quite the woman’s woman, aren’t you?”

I laughed again, this time a little louder. She smiled at me, a smoulder in her eyes.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Oh please, Miss Amari. You’re a handsome woman. I’m sure you have women falling all over you, don’t you?”

I smiled weakly, and took a long drag of my cigarette. This was turning already into a more informal conversation than an interview about whatever she had on her mind. I couldn’t help but relax into the atmosphere.

“…I’m really not into chasing women. There’s only one woman for me, and she runs the bar downstairs.”

“Oh?” she asked me with interest. “You two are together?”

“No. Not yet.”

“ _Yet_ , hm?” she replied with a quiet laugh. “I thought as much. You were awfully protective of her.”

“What can I say? Nobody’s allowed to talk down to a pretty lady like her.”

The woman’s gaze warmed to me a little more.

“That’s chivalrous of you.” she said, with a tone I wasn’t expecting, almost of gratitude. I rubbed the back of my neck.

“…I think it’s just common sense.”

Compared to the woman’s attitude downstairs, I felt like this warm personality was more her speed. This felt more genuine; certainly more pleasant to deal with. I felt as though I already wanted to get to the bottom of her mystery.

I took another drag of my cigarette before offering her one as I sat, to which she declined.

“I have to protect my voice,” she began, “I don’t smoke.”

I stopped in my tracks, with the tobacco burning between my fingers.

“Uh…do you mind if _I_ smoke?”

She chuckled.

“No, not at all. You are much more accommodating than the police, I must say.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You went to the _police_ over this?”

“…Yes.” she began hesitantly, before shaking her head angrily. “But they thought I was being ridiculous...and truth be told, I have more than one matter I want to discuss.”

I looked at her in intrigue.

“…Well, alright. Why don’t you start by telling me your name?”

She took a sip of her drink, and sat back a little more comfortably in her chair.

Her smouldering amber eyes took on a glint of their own; one that surprised me to see so boldly, almost as though she could predict my reaction before she spoke. Her dark lips parted with a smile at each edge, accompanying an attractive satisfaction written all across her face; and from her lips came the words,

“My name is Amelie Lacroix,” she began. “I’m the front singer from The Palace. You know the residency, at the casino downtown?”

 _The Palace_? Wow. I _was_ surprised to hear that, and she knew it.

My eyes widened, and she chuckled with the satisfactory laughter I knew she would. I knew that place well, and so did everybody else in town – rumour had it that they were thinking of expanding across America from how successful they had been in recent years. I guessed that everybody wanted to drown their sorrows after the war. What better place to do it than a sinkhole full of alcohol and addictions?

“Well damn, that’s quite a profession. Singing at a dangerous gambling den, huh?”

“It certainly is.” She remarked back with a fruity laugh. “Oh, it _is_. I’ve had my fair share of drama there, let me tell you.”

Despite its dangerous habits and provocations, The Palace was a relatively new, reputable place; a run-down old building turned into a golden goose. Under a new ownership, it was most known for its bigwigs, money, and glitzy glamour of its patrons; dancers, singers and other live acts amidst the gambling and drinks proved to be a popular mixture after such worldwide despair.

Whilst not known worldwide, this place _was_ famous in town. I could hardly believe I was sitting in front of someone so high profile for this neck of the woods; despite the shady dealings that went on behind closed doors of her workplace. I had never been there before on a personal level, but I knew what kind of establishment it was. Rich and full of secrets way beyond my league.

What the hell would she want to tell _me_?

“Miss Lacroix -”

“Please, call me Amelie.”

“Amelie,” I adjusted. “Look, I have heard of you.”

“I thought as much.”

I took another drag of my cigarette, and watched the smoke escape on the coattails of my words.

“I’ve definitely heard of you. On street posters, or around town; I think everyone in this neck of the woods has _heard_ of you, even if, like myself, they haven’t seen pictures or actually been to The Palace specifically. So let me ask you another question,” I said, reclining, before I pointed my two fingers holding a cigarette between them in her direction. “In fact, let me ask you two.”

“Alright.” She stated plainly, reclining more in her seat, before saying with a knowing smile, “Fire away, Fareeha.”

“There. That right there, just now. _That’s_ the first one. How do you know my first name?” I replied quickly. “I never share my first name. Not on my door, not on my business cards, and certainly not to my clients. You must know someone who knows me. Were you recommended here?”

Amelie looked at me, and didn’t break her gaze as I continued to talk.

“Secondly, and more obviously…” I began. “What was it that happened to bring you to my place anyway?”

I heard her exhale as I leaned forward on the table, and she took another sip of her drink.

She swirled the ice cubes around a little in the glass, looking intently at the golden amber liquor glinting against my lamp lights.

I could tell she was feeling pained. She was stressed. The air around her changed from confident and charming to prickly and upset once more.

She sighed.

“I wanted you to guarantee to pay attention to me, which is why I used your first name.”

She stood up, folding her arms and exposing her back to me as she turned around to walk.

“At The Palace, I am there, every single night, from at least five until midnight. Every night. Without fail. I know that place like the back of my hand, Miss Amari. And today, or any day I have tried to contact you…”

“I would have been out.” I finished, feeling a little foolish at my insensitivity. She nodded.

“Indeed. And you were right…I know you don’t use your first name anywhere, because I was told.”

I sat up a little straighter in my chair, and listened to her more intently.

“You see, I’m here because…there’s someone I want you to investigate for me, Miss Amari. And you are right. I do know someone who knows you. Someone who works at The Palace alongside me, but she has a very different job.”

She paused, and sipped her drink.

“The person who knows you is also the very person I want you to investigate.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Well, okay…can you give me a name?”

“Olivia Colomar. Or better known by her nickname, Sombra. Do you know her?”

I exhaled back in my seat, and rubbed my eyes. I muffled a laugh into my hands.

“Oh, boy. You’re sure? Dark hair, vibrant purple eyes? That her?”

Amelie looked at me with a beautiful expression that I couldn’t place. Her amber eyes looked like they were smouldering with the passionate feelings that lay beneath them.

“Yes…that’s her.” She began, a fondness tugging at the edges of her lips, and as smiled at me with a chuckle, I looked at her curiously. “I know.”

“You know…?”

“I know she’s your ex.”

We both paused for a moment awkwardly, before I laughed to myself; my sound breaking any symptoms of ice in utter disbelief that this conversation was happening – least of all that I had a client who was asking me such a thing.

“That’s right.” I replied, still smiling, but the smile wasn’t of any genuine amusement or happiness. “That’s right, indeed. But that was a long time ago.”

Amelie nodded. “I know. She’s told me about you before, when we’ve walked past this place.”

“What did she say?”

“That you haven’t spoken since, and you were rather cold about breaking things off with her.”

I felt the hot, bitter burn of a memory in my heart at what I knew was slanderous of Sombra. I rubbed my eyes, exasperated.

“That’s not at all what it was, but I’ll let her think that as I was the one who left. It certainly seems like she’s landed on her feet.”

“I’m touched by the suggestion, Miss Amari.”

Olivia Colomar - Sombra - and I had been together for about a year, and that in itself was a year and a half ago.

We had an unusual relationship; detached, half-emotional, but full of an intense physicality. We were never too emotive with each other, a physically gratifying relationship when times were tough, especially; and when I was growing apart, she was growing closer. It had to come to an end.

The last I heard of Sombra was that she was now working at The Palace, according to Amelie, picking locks into people’s homes to find out about their lives, and running around with dangerous individuals.

The love Sombra and I had shared, whatever kind it was, lingered over my head like a raincloud for a while after the end. I never meant to hurt her. But I couldn’t be at all what she needed, and she wasn’t what I needed, either. I was determined to not make that same mistake with Angela Ziegler.

My heart skipped a beat at the memory of the blonde that I adored so much. I shook my head subtly before Amelie, who luckily did not notice my love-fuelled stupor.  

I decided to tell Amelie in not so many words about my opinion of Sombra with her.

“She’s… _dangerous_ , you know. Not that it’s any of my business, but I’m sure a pretty lady like yourself can find someone a little less…ruthless.”

Amelie looked a little uncomfortable when I said that; like the harsh needle of reality bursting her candy cotton bubble of a dream with Sombra.

“Why is that?” she asked, a little hesitantly.

“She runs with all kinds of criminals, Amelie. You don’t want to get swept along with that, believe me.”

Amelie looked at me incredulously, before laughing to herself.

“Is that all?” She chuckled, as though I told her something juvenile. “Come now. Do you know where I work? The things I’ve seen there alone? I’ve been involved in far worse, Miss Amari. And _that_ isn’t why I’m here, believe me.”

I ran a hand through my hair in exasperation.

I could handle many things whilst tired; but unexpectedly talking about my ex-girlfriend at near one in the morning after the day I’d had dropped sandbags of exhaustion over my head. I exhaled.

 “Listen, Miss Lacroix. I’m very tired. It’s been a long day. And I’ve been investigating something pretty harrowing on top of my poor decisions over alcohol consumption. It’s none of my business to be telling you about your dating choices. So is that everything? You just wanted to know something about Sombra?”

Amelie stopped, noticing my unintentionally abrasive tone.

“I wanted you to investigate her current relationships with people, Miss Amari.” Amelie began, and sipped at her drink. “You see, I think she is a gorgeous woman, and I am deeply attracted to her, despite any broken moral compass, but…I want to know if she’s able to _commit_ to me. If push came to shove, would she? I know many women feel the way I do about her.”

“So you aren’t official yet, hm?”

“Not yet.”

“Which means technically she’s free, huh.”

Amelie bit her lip slightly.

“…Did she cheat?” she asked, hesitating mid question. “On you?”

I was stunned by the question I hadn’t heard in such a long time.

Did she cheat on me? Why did we split up? We seemed so perfect for each other, so why did it end?

“No,” I replied stoically, “she didn’t. And I don’t believe she did, either.”

“Did she love you?”

“I think so.”

Amelie laughed sadly, and folded her arms.

“I’m quite envious, Miss Amari. Though I won’t pry into what ended your relationship.”

I took another long drag of my cigarette. _I_ didn’t want to think about that either.

“Thank you.”

Amelie sighed into her hands, and I leant forward with a creak of my chair against the table.

“I take it she’s shown an interest in you romantically, in particular?”

“We’ve had sex, both sober _and_ drunk,” Amelie stated boldly, as I choked a little on my whiskey. “So I’d say that was _some_ kind of intended interest, wouldn’t you?”

I wiped my mouth with my wrist, laughing into my shirt. Sombra _had_ been busy whilst we’d not been together.

“I would.”

“Then yes, she has.”

I chuckled again.

“Certainly, ma’am.”

She laughed in turn, relaxed under the gentle lights of my office, and sipping at her drink once more delicately. I began to twirl a pen around in my free fingers, and looked at her intensely. She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re giving me a very specific look, Miss Amari.”

“You still haven’t told me. About the other part of why you came here.”

Amelie paused; her red lipstick smudging slightly against the rib of my glass in her hand.

“…I was working myself up to admitting it again. Especially after the police debacle…and to myself.”

I furrowed my brow sympathetically.

“I promise, whatever it is, I won’t judge you in here.”

Amelie looked at me with a sense of gratitude about her, and smiled.

“Thank you, Miss Amari. I do appreciate your kindness. But I must ask you…”

I waited.

“Do you promise? That you’ll believe me?”

I looked at her with an expression of valour.

“I promise, hand on heart.”

She let out a sigh of relief, as though she had been waiting for me to say those words, and finally resigned to confessing what had been on her mind.

Her slender hands cupped the glass she held, and her ruby red nails tapped against the sides rhythmically. She looked up from the glass in her lap. I braced myself for the worst.

“The other night,” she stated, shakily. “I was almost murdered.”

I had a feeling that sentence was going to part from her lips. It never got any easier doing these kinds of interviews.

“…Do you know who by?” I asked, darkly.

“No. But the only thing I can tell you is that they had shimmering red eyes. I swear it on my life, Miss Amari. That thing was not fully human. I don’t know who it was, but their eyes…”

I could see Amelie visibly shaking, and it sent a chill up my spine. Her hands trembled as she put down the glass quickly, and I could see that as well as frightened, she was also uncontrollably angry that something had made her feel this way.

“The glare of them will haunt my dreams forever, Miss Amari. It…it felt like they were staring into me. Into my soul.”

“Where did this happen?”

As quickly as she had put the glass down, she picked it back up to sip at the honey-coloured liquid.

“In the back alley. Of The Palace. I always leave that way to come home, so nobody can follow me. Some weird types attend the casino, you see. People can’t easily get into the back alleyway.”

I took another drag of my cigarette, and leant against my desk, exhaling in a draconic fashion.

“I can believe that with ease, to be honest.”

Amelie paused, and looked at me suspiciously.

“So you believe me? Truly?”

“I do.” I replied, and it was honest, which chilled me even more. I genuinely believe her. And that meant that there was someone – or something – terrifying out there.

Amelie Lacroix was a singer, not an actress. She had no reason to be coming into my office to lie about something like this, especially when she had been so upfront about Sombra, and knowing our history together. I believed her – but that begged more questions.

“What time was this?”

“Around the same time I usually leave, so midnight. The back alley is dark and secluded, with nothing out there besides the trash cans, the basement’s storm entrance, the outhouse, and the alcohol barrels, all of which have been left there untouched for far too long.”

“So the usual of a big establishment, then.”

“Indeed. I have no idea how they got past the gate without a key, but they did. It was wide open, and they were about as tall as me, or hunched over, perhaps…glaring at me.”

I felt my mouth become slowly drier, and stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray next to me.

“Did they have a weapon?”

“I'm not sure, but...I felt as though…”

I waited for her to finish her sentence.

“I felt as though…they were going to destroy me. I don’t know why. It all feels like such a blur, like a pressure over my head.”

Over the head…? Brigitte...

It was an interesting choice of phrasing. Were the two connected…?

Amelie looked incredibly shaken the further she went into the story; and I held up my hand at that moment. She looked at me with confusion.

“That’s alright, Miss Lacroix. I’ve got enough to go on.”

“So you’ll investigate it?!” She asked me eagerly, and I could see her amber eyes shining with hope. I smiled at her. With even the faintest possibility of a connection, there was no way I could say no. Two birds with one stone.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’ll be happy to investigate this for you.”

She gasped, and placed her hands over her mouth.

“Oh, thank you! Merci!” She gushed. “I’ve been so worried about this, Miss Amari. The police didn't believe me from my lack of details! Not to mention that they could do something to me, or even to Sombra…”

I nodded in agreement.

“I know. I’ll work as hard as I can to catch whoever this is, and go to the scene to look at whatever I can find. But…”

There was one very key point I had to ask.

“Oui? What is it?”

“This back alley…I noticed you said it isn’t easily gotten into. Is it accessible to the public? I suppose not, right?”

Amelie instantly saw my point.

“Ah.”

“…Yeah. Have you told your boss about this?”

Amelie laughed slightly, though I could hear the despondency in her voice. “No. She wouldn’t understand. I’d probably be fired for being a nuisance.”

“Your boss is Satya Vaswani, right?”

“That’s right.” Amelie replied sarcastically at the reminder. “The most _giving_ woman in all of Seattle…if you’re giving her your life savings first by spending them all at the casino she runs.”

I laughed quietly.

“She’s a powerful woman, hm?”

“Oh, most definitely, cherie. She is without a doubt one of the most powerful women in this town, especially. Her ruthlessness knows no bounds.”

“Wow, that must be nice.”

Amelie laughed. “She definitely…she is truly something, Miss Amari. She’s not the owner, though.”

“Have you met the owner of The Palace?”

“Oui, but only a couple of times that I can remember.”

I furrowed my brow. I saw exactly what Amelie meant – getting permission from Satya, owner or not, would be hard.

When you couldn’t get permission…why ask?

“Amelie…could you leave _any_ gate open for me to investigate?”

She tilted her head to the side; a devilish smirk sliding onto her face.

“I thought you were saying Sombra was bad for her dangerous habits?”

I smirked.

“Well, I’m helping you out, right? Karma must surely see that a wrong makes a right, in _this_ instance.”

“You make a good point.” Amelie replied, before sighing. “Mm…I don’t have the key on a regular basis, though. I only get given the key when I’m going home, and even then, I have to drop it off with the casino guards as I’m leaving.”

“…Is Sombra available to help?”

Amelie looked at me in shock, and I laughed at myself. What was I asking? My ex to help lockpick a gate, so her potential girlfriend wouldn’t be murdered? This was already turning out to be a doozy.

“I’m sure she can…be available,” Amelie said. “Any time in particular that you’d like us to make this happen? We must act fast, or Satya will undoubtedly have our heads. We have guards to evade too, remember.”

I bit my lip at the thought.

“…One o’clock.” I finally stated. “Tomorrow, before you start singing, and while it’s still relatively light. That time okay?”

Amelie nodded, following along with my determination.

“As you wish. I can go to The Palace as and when I please without raising suspicion. But please, Miss Amari, be careful when _you_ go there. I am not joking when I say it’ll be _all_ of our heads that roll if she catches us. Investigate as fast as you can…perhaps even bring along another set of eyes to help.”

I paused, and my stomach grew butterflies fluttering around from the thought I had.

Angela…

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent.” Amelie replied, and stood up promptly; shuffling her luxuriously furry coat over her shoulders, and unfastening the latch of her bag. “In that case, Miss Amari, I believe we are done here for the time being. I shall return here in two days’ time for your findings of investigation properly.”

I blinked in surprise at how fast she was trying to escape from this place, but I also understood her position. We’d been talking about uncomfortable topics for quite a while now; and I felt the stinging burn of fatigue riddle my eyes as I looked over at my clock on the mantelpiece of the fireplace.

It was almost two in the morning, and I felt as though I was about to pass out from fatigue over a six o’clock start.

Amelie placed a large wad of cash on the table. My burning eyes almost disintegrated out of my skull.

“What?! Miss, I -”

“Please, take it.” She stated firmly, and I wasn’t about to ask twice over an amount that could see me comfortably through the next few weeks with ease. “Your kindness hasn’t gone forgotten, Miss Amari. I appreciate it. And with Sombra…I hope that she can prove to be faithful.”

I thanked her, and slipped it sheepishly into my top desk drawer. I almost felt as though it was some type of blood money, but I neglected to ask for fear of it being the truth.

“You’re a strictly one-woman lady, huh?” I asked, on topic with Amelie Lacroix’s one track mind. She laughed.

“Oh, absolutely. If anybody _were_ to cheat on me…” she began, before I watched something _click_ in her head, like a switch flipping on or a penny dropping, before she remembered where she was.

She laughed to herself quietly, and smiled a knowing, quiet smile to herself.

I was slightly perturbed.  

“I believe we’re done here.” Amelie stated, standing up. “Please, Fareeha. Investigate her for me when you can, and tell me if she has any other women on the side. I don’t care what kind of profession she has. I can change her if need be.”

“Damn, you’re a confident woman, aren’t you?”

She laughed.

“Never underestimate the power of sexuality. And besides, are _you_ attracted to me, Fareeha Amari?”

I was a little taken aback by her forwardness, and I rubbed the back of my neck as I looked away from her.

“Well…” I began. “You’re a beautiful woman, Amelie. But you know who I’ve got my heart set on.”

She smiled this time, which was a response I was not expecting. A comfortable, warm, satisfied smile as she walked towards the door, handing me some money.

“You’re a good woman.” she stated, and looked me square in the eyes. “Angela Ziegler would be lucky to have you. And for what it’s worth, I thought you two were together to begin with. She was forever making eyes at you from the moment I walked in.”

I felt a little blush coming, and turned around to my table to disguise it.

“Well…thanks. Maybe one day we’ll be together.”

Amelie nodded in agreement.

“I hope that is soon for the two of you.”

“Likewise.” I stated with a grin, and shuffled myself up from behind my large, mahogany, cluttered desk; walking over with a creak against my floorboards, and opened the door for her. “Remember – one o’clock tomorrow.”

“I will not forget. Goodbye, Fareeha.”

And as fast as she came, she was gone.

Wait… _gone_?

“Huh…she didn’t stay the night after all.”

The door locked behind her as she left with a satisfying click.

I could hear no more noise downstairs either. The bar now sounded closed to me, which meant Angela had gone to her apartment…and was probably asleep by now.

I took both of the glasses that Amelie and I had been drinking from, and poured them away in the kitchen sink. The faint remnants of ice cubes clinked gently against the porcelain. Listening to those noises was when I realized that my apartment now felt quiet. Too quiet.

I felt lonely. I _knew_ who I wanted to be with, whose lips I wanted planted against my own, lost in the lust and enamour of each other. I knew who I wanted wrapped tight in my arms…and she was just next door.

I sighed to myself, melancholy, and decided to take a shower before bed to clean myself up a bit.

It felt good. I enjoyed cleaning off the dirt of the city. The steam of the water made my skin feel sticky and humid in a pleasant way, and eventually I stumbled out of the mist and into a towel. Before I knew it, I was laying down on my bed in a robe, staring up at the ceiling fan, its gentle breeze cooling the thin layer of water on my skin.

I looked around my room aimlessly.

The same mahogany table, the same feather bed, the same wooden drawers and pictures strewn around the room. Packets of discarded cigarette boxes lay in my trash can, along with tissues, soda bottle tops and candies.

The smell of old tobacco hit my senses, and the sensation of the warm shower and whiskey hit me right behind the eyes; but I was jerked awake by the sudden sound of a phone ringing.

“Hm…?” I mumbled to myself. “Who is that at this hour?”

I walked over to where it lay; vibrating with a loud ring on my desktop; and unhooked the phone’s receiver curiously.

“Hello…?”

“Ah! Fareeha, I’m so sorry for calling so late…especially when I’m just next door. Really I should have just popped over, shouldn’t I? Haha.”

Angela!

“Oh, not at all!” I replied, much brighter than I had felt just seconds ago. “Is everything okay? Did the chatter keep you up?”

“Oh, no!” Angela replied, and I could picture the adorable expression she often made when flustered. “No, no. I was, um…I was just calling to see if everything was…okay? I heard the door of your apartment slam.”

Her voice went an octave higher at the end of her sentence, and I knew that was an excuse of a question on her part. I felt my heart soar from how giddy I was over my crush.

“Everything’s fine, yeah. She just went home, actually.”

“Oh! Home? Really?”

“Yep. Seems she didn’t feel like she needed to stay the night after all.”

Angela sighed, and I couldn’t help but blush thinking it was a sigh of relief. I knew on her part this wasn’t a case of trusting me – but moreso a case of feeling as though the regret of not making a move yet was sinking in. I knew that feeling all too well. Hell, I felt it every time a woman at the bar made loving eyes towards her. I smiled to myself.

“I see…well, I’m glad everything’s alright. I just wanted to make sure. I know you’ve had some rather rowdy clients in there before, and with one flying into your office this late in the night...”

“I certainly have. But I promise, I’m fine.” I began, before I remembered Amelie’s words, and the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach; I had almost forgot!

_Bring another pair of eyes with you._

“Actually, Angela, I wanted to ask you something too, but I was going to save it for tomorrow…”

“Yes?” she curiously replied, and I smiled into my voice as I spoke at the receiver.

“Um…well, truth be told, I could actually really use your help on a case.”

She gasped slightly under her breath, and my grin went from a smile to a beam.

“Help on a case? _Me_? Wow, we’ve not done that in quite some time, Fareeha. The last one was the Fawkes case, right? Are you quite sure?”

“Well, sure. If that’s alright with you. I just need another set of eyes to look for things that I’m looking for. I’ll even throw in a breakfast for you. The case’ll begin at one, so…do you wanna come along?”

Almost as soon as my sentence was finished, I heard the eager, German accent of my loved one come through the phone.

“I’d love to!” she spoke with glee, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Tomorrow’s my day off too, so I’d love even more to spend it with you…helping. And stuff.”

I laughed knowingly.

“I’d also love to spend it with you, _helping_. And stuff.”

Angela chuckled at herself.

“Well…I’d absolutely love to, Fareeha. Shall I knock on your door for about ten? Is that too early?”

“No time’s too early for you.” I replied. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.”

Angela smiled again into her voice.

“You really are too charming for your own good, aren’t you?”

“Only selectively.”

Angela laughed, and in turn, I felt a smile spread across my face.

“…In that case, I’ll see you then. You can explain all the details of it tomorrow to me over pancakes, okay?”

“Sounds great,” I replied with a smirk. “I’ll see you then, in that case. Goodnight, Angela.”

“Goodnight, Fareeha. And…”

“Mm?”

“I’m really glad you asked me to come with you.”

I smiled as Angela hung up the receiver, and – from melancholy mere moments ago to soaring away on cloud nine – I flopped backwards into bed with a huge smile on my face.

Hectic day tomorrow or not, it was going to be a good one – at the very least because I’d get to see Angela Ziegler’s face all day long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning!

_Fareeha…_

Have you ever had a dream that felt so real…you could swear that it was?

_You make me feel so good. Kiss me more, won’t you?_

I had one of those dreams the day before spending the entirety of it with Angela Ziegler at my side.

I think I knew it was a dream when it was happening, but I refused to acknowledge it.

It was everything I ever wanted.

The feel of her curves against my bare palms. The alabaster, smooth silk touch of her skin. Her hips pressing against my thighs as she moved against me, heady and lustful and messy, and her breasts pressed against mine as we lay; entangled, weightless, floating almost in a sea of nothing but ourselves.

I kissed at her salty skin, lapping up the desire, and dragging my lips along her neck, her collarbone, her lips; and all along the cusp of her breasts, before I reached down in between her legs to make her moans slip from her lips. They did at my touch, and I could feel how wet she was in an instant. My head spun at the sudden rush.

I felt like I could feel Angela’s nails digging into my back with pure ecstasy, and that only made me want to please her _more_. Please her faster, in all the ways I’d always dreamed of, when my lips tingled to be against hers the very most.

But then the weightlessness of our bodies began to shift.

My perfect bubble bursting, and feeling the drop through the seemingly infinite space we’d been left in to make love.

I began to feel a pain in my eyes, and I realized the unwanted truth that I was regaining consciousness. The light pouring in through the cracks in my closed blinds was _very_ unwelcome.

“Eugh…”

_God damn it._

I sighed, and slapped a hand to my scorching face. In between my legs ached with a pulsing that I knew wouldn’t leave anytime soon, and I grumbled as I flopped the blanket over my face.

“Why is this happening to me?” I asked into the void of my apartment, and crossed my legs.

It didn’t help any to do that, and I certainly didn’t have the time to see to myself right now, which I knew was only going to make today even _more_ difficult to get through without telling Angela to kiss me.

To accompany my burning eyes and unruly, unrelenting lust, the sting of a dry headache pulsed around my brain from last night’s drinking. But it was also my first good night’s sleep in weeks. I felt like I should thank both Angela for it as well as the bottle of whiskey for finally doing what I damn well wanted it to do for the last god knows how long.

 _Angela_ …I was going to spend all of today with her again, for the first time in a little while.

I sat up in bed, let out a yawn, rubbed the stardust out of my eyes and ruffled my hair into place.

Despite the intensity of my – wonderful – dream, I was still drowsy, but knew I couldn’t afford to be. I had a lot on my plate today. Brigitte, Amelie, Sombra; whoever this mysterious assailant was, attacking the former and harassing the middle woman – could they be connected? It seemed unusual to have something so potentially violent looming just weeks after Brigitte’s attack in a town where nothing usually happened to that degree.

“Okay…where to start?”

I stood up from my bed, thinking everything over and looking over the notes of cases I had made on my bedside table whilst I got changed.

“Let’s see…” I mumbled to myself, and felt the familiar pang of sadness as I looked over the smudged ink of Brigitte’s file. I walked to the bathroom, casefile in hand; brushing my teeth as I looked it over once more. I sparked up a morning cigarette a few minutes later as I read.

NAME: Brigitte Lindholm

AGE: 28

MATERNAL/PATERNAL DETAILS:  
Torbjorn Lindholm (Father)  
Ingrid Lindholm (Mother)

DETAILS:

  * Almost murdered along the alleyway next to her workplace, Eichenwelders.
  * Nearly no help from the police in this case except for Emily Oxton (as usual).
  * Reinhardt Wilhelm (61) is Brigitte’s boss down at Eichenwelders, as well as her godfather and also a close friend of my mothers.
  * He refuses to talk about anything to do with her; grief seems to have overcome him.
  * Not a suspect as he seems to be genuinely almost fearful of the attacker coming after him next.
  * Nothing to do with E. Oxton either after Brigitte made a pass at her wife two weeks prior.
  * No witnesses at all in the event of her attack besides potentially Reinhardt.
  * Brigitte found by two elderly women passing by from a local book club in their return home.
  * Comatose from a hard blow to the back of the head.
  * Sharp marks from unexplained object cut at her stomach, seemingly made from stopping suddenly, probably from being interrupted by passers-by. Marks also lacerated against her neck.
  * No signs of sexual assault, theft, or trauma of any other kind besides the above.



I scratched my head, and clicked my tongue in frustration; watching as the smoke softly hovered from my lips.

“Brigitte...”

I don’t know why I felt as though reading this over again would help any, but considering I felt such a strong possibility of a connection from Amelie Lacroix’s story, I had to at least check over the primary source of my stress lately.

I missed my best friend, and it was especially frustrating knowing just how bad off she was from such an attack. I felt so angry at the thought of someone treating her that way.

After reading over the casefiles again, I decided the obvious was to be followed of my other assignment. If The Palace was a link to both Brigitte and Amelie in their attacks, then that was very much the place to start; and very much a place focused on appearances.

I knew if I wanted to get in there and fit well, I needed to dress smart today.

“Hmm…”

I gathered out the components for a smart, black suit; shuffling on my pants and shoes, loosely wearing my blouse half-open over my vest, and rest my blue tie against my shoulder as I got ready. I leant against my windowsill for a moment, looking out over the cityscape of this awful town.

The autumn colours were beautiful, though – I’ll give it that. They really were.

The sounds of the street were strangely comforting in the still life of my apartment. The birds were chirping away in the trees; soft and happy; whilst the angry honking of cars could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the faint, unwelcome, travelling noise of construction happening too early for it to be acceptable.

But eventually, the most impactful noise joined the crowd. My ears prickled up to a familiar buzz.

My doorbell…!

“Oh! Just a moment!” I shouted, and hurriedly gave my room the once over glance. It seemed to be fine, and hey, I was out of time to change it anyway.

My heart skipped a few beats; and my eyes were suddenly not stinging anymore.

I took one more final drag of my morning cigarette quickly; stubbed it out in the ashtray and cracked another window.

I hadn’t changed properly just yet; my shirt was unbuttoned at the top and my tie was loose, but I was wearing a vest, and really, it was nothing Angela hadn’t already seen of me when I was drunk out of my mind downstairs.

“Alright, I’m coming now.”

I felt a little bashful after the dream I had on top of everything else, but I was so happy to know I was to spend the day with her. I felt more composed after being awake for a little while…but that didn’t mean that this feeling was going anywhere.

I checked myself in the mirror before I opened the door.

“You goddamn mess,” I mumbled to myself under my breath, as I swung the door open with a smile.

Angela Ziegler – she looked as radiant as she ever did.

My heart felt as though it was ready to lurch up into my mouth. She looked as beautiful as ever, but even moreso today; she was wearing her hair down, and a royal blue jacket hugged at her curves in all the right places. I could see the frills of a white dress beneath, along with her golden accessories of jewellery donning along her ears, wrists, and even a small golden chain hanging gently around her neck. I felt even _worse_ about how tired I must have looked. She looked absolutely beautiful.

Angela grinned at me.

“Good morning, detective.” She said brightly, and with a cheeky smirk. I could barely bring myself to look her in the eye after dreaming about her body in such a capacity.

“Miss Ziegler.” I remarked back, with a smile and a tiny bow. “You…you really look beautiful, Angela.”

Angela Ziegler blushed before me, and I felt utterly, and hopelessly, stupid in my dumbfounded speech. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“…Thank you…” she replied, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how teenage we were acting.

“Are you all ready for today? It’s gonna hopefully be a cakewalk, but I expect we’ll run into some obstacles. You’re definitely dressed for the establishment we’ll be going to.”

“Well, I should certainly hope so! Obstacles make for an interesting time.” Angela retorted, and then raised an eyebrow. “And is that so? Am I being taken to an upmarket venue?”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Angela. You could say that.”

She smiled warmly at me.

“It sounds like it must be a dire situation if you need me to come along again. I know how much of a lone wolf you usually are.”

I chuckled.

“What can I say? I don’t usually like getting other people wrapped up in my messes, but I know you love to broaden your horizons sometimes.”

“I most certainly do. But I love to broaden my tastebuds even further.” She replied, and placed her hands on her stomach. “I didn’t get to eat much last night, so I feel positively starving today. Do you want to go to breakfast right now?”

I buttoned up my blouse hastily, my fingers fumbling over the buttons, and looked at Angela with a smile.

“Of cour-”

My tie fell off of my shoulder, and I closed my eyes in exasperation.

“Oh, god damn it.”

Angela laughed.

“Here.”

She leant down quickly, scooping up the tie in her hands, and sliding it through the curve of my blouse collar.

Have you ever had somebody you like fasten your tie for you? I never knew that something so specific could be so…intimate.

I could smell the sweet softness of her perfume…the vanilla of her skin’s lotion, gently resting in my senses like clouds. Her warm hands placed themselves on my collarbone, and I could see her soft, blonde hair resting against the brush of her shoulders. I could see how close her full lips were to mine; the flutter of her long eyelashes. God, Angela. If you only knew how perfect you were.

She tried not to look up at me, grinning as her fingers made quick work of my tie, and I felt her palms graze the skin of my chest. I’d never been _gladder_ to drop something.

“…Am I doing this right?” she asked me, laughing quietly, and looping the fabric perfectly through the right rungs.

“Yeah,” I replied, softly. “You’re doing just fine.”

Our faces were mere inches apart, and she finally looked up at me.

“…Good.” She said with a nod, and patted my tie down onto my chest. “There you go. Very dapper. You fit a suit well…don’t you?”

Angela didn’t move her hand for a moment, and our eyes were locked into a close, intimate embrace of their own. We moved a little closer to each other, and then a little closer.

Our noses touched. My heart raced out of my chest.

The phone rang loudly in the background.

I blinked in disbelief, as both of us jumped out of our skin.

“Ah...” Angela said, as she leant back her head and laughed.

I closed my eyes in exasperation.

“Who the hell is this?” I grumbled, hesitantly peeling myself out of Angela’s loving arms, and stomped backwards. This had better be a lifechanging phonecall.

Angela was in too much of a daze to really do anything besides laugh to herself.

I swept the phone off of its hook.

“Yeah?! What is it?”

“ _Wow_. Rough morning, is it?”

I sighed, wearily.

“Oh. Hi, Emily.”

“That’s _Commanding_ _Officer_ Emily Oxton to you, if you greet me in that way again.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

“So you had a woman there, huh?” She retorted, and I felt my face flush red. She digressed. “Look. I have something for you. On the Lindholm case.”

I froze in my tracks.

“…What?”

“It’s Reinhardt. Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

“Right, right. I’d forgotten who he was with all the Reinhardt’s in this town.”

Emily ignored my sarcasm.

“He said he’s willing to talk now. I don’t know what changed his mind. Directly asked for you specifically, but didn’t know your number or office location. He told me to give you a call and let you know that he’ll be back in work tomorrow. Left on a business venture or something. I don’t know.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

“Really?”

“No, I just thought I’d call to wind you up. Of course it’s for real!” Emily replied impatiently, and I smirked to myself. “He said he’s getting back into town tonight, but he’d be at work again tomorrow. Got it? Four o’clock tomorrow, I believe. So make sure to be at Eichenwelders if you want some more answers, alright? Maybe he has something good.”

“…Alright. I’ll check in with him then and give him his breathing space tonight. Thanks a lot, Emily.”

I heard her clear her throat.

“Uh, yeah…sure. Whatever. Don’t tell her that I had anything to do with helping her when she wakes up, though.”

I laughed to myself.

“Aww, come on. Are you still mad with Brigitte for making a pass on Lena?”

Emily snorted at the other end of the phone.

“Fareeha, as much as I reflexively would have loved to arrest her – or punch her – for such a thing, sadly making a pass at a police officer’s wife _isn’t_ a criminal act. Even if it _is_ annoying.”

We both chuckled, but I could hear the twinge of sadness in our voices. The reality of wanting to solve Brigitte’s case began to sink in even harder than it usually did.

“…See you soon, Amari. Oh, and by the way…”

“…Mm?”

“Another person went missing last night. Be careful.”

Emily hung up the phone at the other end, and I stood with it in my hand for a moment before placing it back on the hook of the base.

“…Everything alright?”

I turned to face Angela, who was looking at me with a slightly sympathetic expression. I couldn’t help but feel my happiness return at the sight of her but...

Another person missing…what was going on?

“…Yeah. Yeah, everything’s good.” I began with a shake of my head, and realizing that we could now finally grab the breakfast we wanted to together. I felt excited at the notion of having her by my side. “Come on. I’ll buy you that long awaited breakfast. Thanks for putting up with that.”

“Ooh! Where are we off to?”

“Wherever takes your fancy, Angela.”

I flew on my suit’s jacket, grabbed my cigarettes and car keys before heading out of the door briskly with Angela on my arm. Between the potential progress in Brigitte’s case, the assistance of Angela Ziegler and Amelie Lacroix’s case at the forefront of my mind, life was beginning to look up...at least for a while.

-  
  
Angela and I decided to go to a little diner nearby known as The Polar Bear.

It was a popular, greasy-spoon kind of place. The food was as delicious as it could be for the price, and it was an establishment ran by two women that I knew well. One, a burly Russian woman with short, choppy hair, and who took great pleasure in beating all of her patrons at arm wrestling; whilst the other a small, ambitious Chinese woman, who always made the best beverage that you could get this side of Seattle, be it coffee or iced tea.

They were happy together; and the clientele was just as happy, considering how it very much showed in the food they put out. It was a quaint little place, with a familiarly soft sound of a jukebox playing in the background. It was relaxing.

Angela and I squeaked ourselves into one of the booth tables; the leather seats comfortable and worn, and my eyes always boggled at the sight of the floor’s check tiles. One of the waitresses came hurrying out of the back kitchen, and took our order almost instantly.

The waitress looked relatively young – Korean, probably no older than twenty-one or two – and had her hair in a high ponytail, a plaid shirt beneath her apron, and hip-hugging jeans at her side. Her hair was wrapped with a pink bandana, tied into a neat ribbon before her ponytail.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, whipping out a small notepad from her shirt's breast pocket.

Angela asked for pancakes and a black coffee, whilst I asked for as much bacon as they could pile on to a plate. I had no idea what today was going to be like, and I was damned if I was going to go through it hungrily. Having Angela Ziegler here was a blessing – the only way it could get better was with food.

It was nice. It was the nicest morning I’d had in quite some time. Getting to look at how beautiful the woman in front of me was felt like a luxury.

“You enjoying your food?” I asked Angela from across the table, noticing how fast she was devouring the food before her. She nodded wordlessly, before laughing with a mouth full of pancakes, and I couldn’t help but laugh in turn.

“Mmrghf.”

“I’m glad to hear such divine criticism, Angela.”

Angela jolted forward to prevent the pancakes falling from her mouth as she laughed gleefully, and coughed as they slipped down.

“Sorry,” she replied with a wry grin, dabbing at the edges of her lips, “I guess I _was_ hungrier than I thought. But…”

“…Mm?” I asked, looking up from my coffee.

There was an unexpected moment of hesitation; I tried to read the mood, read Angela’s faltering blue eyes as they looked at mine, before falling to our hands. She placed her hand on mine across the table, and I felt as though I was about to bring up my breakfast through the lovesick feeling I felt.

“I’m…” She began, and chuckled shyly. “I’m really happy to be here…with you.”

I blinked in amazement, before I felt my thumb stroked her knuckles instinctively.

“I’m so happy to be with you, too.”

Whatever this was between us was only getting stronger, no matter how much I deemed me doing the right thing by trying to keep it at bay. It was obvious that we were beginning to find it hard to keep ourselves from fully committing to each other, and that in itself was a lovely notion. But the thoughts haunted me at night as much as they did in the day, with how oft I thought of Angela’s wellbeing.

Could I really be the one to treat her right? Would she understand when I had to be gone for long periods of time, investigating god knows what? I could never come to the right conclusion. To have Angela Ziegler for myself and then to lose her would be more painful than not having her at all.

I just wanted her to be happy…but if we could be happy together, then that was what I wanted the very most. But I knew now wasn’t the time for that.

Between our casual, unspoken affection, and the angst of feeling as though I was failing at protecting Angela from all of my baggage, I filled her in on the details of today. The Palace, the intentional sneaking around, the almost attack on their most prolific singer; naturally, I had to fill her in about Sombra’s potential appearance as well, and Angela was in agreement that all of the following was the best thing to do.

“Even _I_ know about Sombra’s lockpicking prowess. I heard that she tried to break into the bar after you and her split up a year or so ago.”

My head snapped round.

“What?!”

“Did you not know?” Angela replied, laughing at my bewildered expression. “She was particularly angry with you, wasn’t she?”

I shook my head in disbelief, but both of us were satisfied with the details. My mouth agape, we chuckled, and Angela was the first to sigh wearily.

“I suppose my suggestion of the time to meet was rather too early, wasn’t it?” Angela said, with a slightly guilty tone. I shook my head in surprise at her change in mood as I swallowed a mouthful of food that was already too big for me.

“Hey, now. Where’s that coming from? When do we ever get to spend the day together in this capacity, huh?”

She smiled at me; her warm effervescence coming through.

“Well, that’s true. Between the company I’ve kept and the Polar Bear’s pancakes, today is turning out to be rather nice.”

I grinned at her, and she smiled at me; resting her head on one hand, propped up by her elbow, and letting some of her blonde hair droop over her palm.

"I couldn't agree more."

-

Between the flirting, fawning and chatter of us both, the clock had soon struck half past eleven. Our breakfast date was coming to an end – and soon, the real action would begin. I swear, if I could have frozen time, I would have without even a single moment’s hesitation.

Angela dabbed at the sides of her lips with the paper napkin at her side as we stood, and I pulled out clinking pieces of change. She placed her hand on mine suddenly. I looked at her with confusion.

“No,” she insisted, “allow me.”

“What?” I dismissively replied, noticing her rummaging through her pockets. “No way.”

“Come on, let me pay!”

I scoffed, and Angela had a flirtatious, cheeky smile on her face that was making me want to tease her more.

“Let you pay when this is _my_ excursion that I’ve dragged you on? I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t _dragged_ me anywhere, Fareeha. I wanted to come! And besides, I got you up this early, didn’t I?”

“I don’t care.”

“ _Fareeha_!”

Before Angela could protest any further amongst her chuckles, I placed some money on the counter, and placed my hands on her shoulders. The small, chubby, Chinese woman emerged from behind the bar; a vivid blue dress on behind her apron, and waved us goodbye as she picked up the payment.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the food, Mei! Tell Zarya I said hello!”

We heard a faint shout back as we left, with Angela laughing and protesting in my arms as I steered her out of the diner gently.

Eventually, we stepped back outside into the cold, autumn winds of November; with full stomachs, clear skies above, and bigger hearts.

Angela placed her hands on my shoulders as she turned around in my arms, after my gentle but determined removal of her from the diner; and I couldn’t help but laugh with a wink as I rest my hands on her hips. She shook her head with a faux noise of indignation.

“You really are so cheeky.”

I grinned; big and bright as I felt, with a beautiful woman on my arm; and Angela shuffled a little closer into my embrace.

I wrapped my arms around her as we stood outside of the diner. The wind was blustery and bitter.

“Comfortable?” I asked; my lips brushing against the vanilla of her hair. She nodded and mumbled her following speech; her voice muffled by my shirt.

“Of course, liebling. It’s cold, and you are as warm as spring.”

The romantic tones of standing with the woman I loved in my arms swept me away.

“I’d love to keep you warm more often.”

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could contain them, and as I blushed, I also stifled a laugh as Angela playfully tapped my shoulder. She smiled brightly at me.

“…Keep that up and you just might.”

I grinned at Angela in my arms, who held onto me with the gentle firmness that I had grown to love. I felt myself falling. How was I even managing to pretend to myself that I could resist taking this to the next level?

“Angela…”

She placed her hands on my face, and I knew something was about to happen. Something that I didn’t want to stop – something that she didn’t either. Angela’s sapphire eyes smiled at me along with her lips, and I smiled right back at her, even in the biting winds that nipped at our skin.

I pulled her closer to me, gently; her hands gripped to me a little more comfortably.

“…Fareeha, I really…”

“…Yeah?”

The moment felt right. The moment felt _perfect_. I knew.

“I really…”

I pulled her a little closer into my arms. She looked up at me with those beautiful eyes that I knew so well. My lips tingled with anticipation of the eager press of Angela’s lips.

“Angela.”

She paused, and bit her lip a little.

“Yes?”

_Tell her. Tell her you love her._

“I, uh…”

_Tell her all the ways you want to be with her. Tell her!_

“I…”

“Fareeha, is that you? Blimey, it is! Hiya!”

Angela and I felt our eyes closed in exasperation, as we turned with a grimace to face Lena Oxton – the wife of Emily – bounding up with her typically bright expression and laden with shopping bags.

“Is this just a theme today...?” Angela whispered, and I could hear the mutual exasperation in our voices.

After an awkward, grimacing discussion with Lena Oxton and all five of her shopping bags strewn on one, sturdy arm, Angela and I made a beeline for the car; pushing to the back of our minds the distraction of our increasingly undeniable attraction for the sake of the case. Falling head over heels in love or not, we had work to do…even if that was now the farthest thing on my mind.

“Shall we go?” Angela asked, breathlessly, and pulled me from the reverie I had so easily slipped into at her side. I ran a hand through my hair hastily, and switched on the ignition of my motor.

“Let’s get this done,” I replied, absent minded, and Angela smiled at me from the side of the car.

It was time to investigate The Palace – and come face to face with Amelie Lacroix, Sombra, and perhaps even the most intimidating member of them all – the boss of the place itself – the infamous, ruthless presence that was Satya Vaswani.

-

Driving along the streets of this small town in Seattle was always a somewhat beautiful experience, minus knowing all about the dirty, dingy secrets that each alleyway held. The view was a burning mixture of orange and yellow leaves; dying in the haze of winter’s welcome, and falling to the ground along the familiar, bitter breeze outside the car windows.

We passed by the small businesses, lit up by their old, leftover Halloween décor; the houses that were misplaced amongst the business district, but who had refused to move during the renovations after the war; and finally, we could see The Palace over the hillside of the road from a short distance away.

“Wow…this place really is something, isn’t it?” Angela said in awe, and I couldn’t help but agree as I pulled the car up to the parking lot.

I had been to various casinos a few times – usually to scrape Sombra up off of the floor in despair at the amounts of money she’d lost in the poker tables – but as we pulled up to _this_ particular establishment, I knew I’d be marvelling forever at the décor that it offered. The sheer splendour and power that reached even the exterior decorations amazed me.

I knew that casinos - at least in appearance - were always lavish, but I’d be damned if The Palace didn’t take that to a whole new standard of impressive.

“Even the things that _hold_ the plants are made of gold, are they?” Angela said incredulously, and I could see as we pulled up, she was right. “That’s more money than sense if you ask me, liebling. Whoever owns this place is surely an idiot.”

I chuckled.

“Not a fan of flashy décor, Angela?”

“Not really. I like decoration, but I like things that make a place feel like home, you know? I feel as though people who live just to impress others don’t make the most of life, really. Solely, I mean. There’s nothing wrong with showing off every now and again, but surely it must lose its lustre after a while.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“That’s…deep, actually.”

“I suppose we all have different outlooks on life,” Angela replied, and pulled out a travel sweet from the side of my car, popping the fruit-flavoured candy into her mouth. “But that’s just my personal opinion.”

“Do you think you make the most of life, Angela?”

The woman at my side paused; the click of the hard candy in her mouth knocking against her teeth. She turned to face me with eyes bright blue, blue as the summer sky; and said,

“I think I make the most of my life when…I’m doing something I love with someone I love.”

I smiled as Angela’s earnest answer, and I nodded in agreement. I couldn’t tell if she was referring to me, and I felt a little conceited even entertaining the idea. But I felt the same about her. God, did I ever.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The planters outside _were_ beautiful – and whether or not they actually were real gold, they certainly looked as though they could have been. Each one was full to the brim of gorgeous coloured flowers, accompanied by their own vivid green leaves. They were beautiful, ornate and inviting, and the exterior wall of the casino was just as dazzling in its extravagance.

“Are we underdressed?” Angela laughed jokingly, but I couldn’t help but thinking she might have been right.

Flashing lights around a neon sign simply saying “The Palace” lit-up before us; alternating the colours every second of which flashed, through blue, white, and red bulbs. There were fliers stuck on the boards outside, and huge posters of a certain Frenchwoman that had come to visit me the night prior. I laughed, impressed.

“Damn, Amelie.”

Angela raised her eyebrows at seeing her posters.

“Wow. She’s that big of a deal here, is she? I’m almost starstruck.” Angela replied with an unenthused tone, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

There were a few people dotted around, even at this hour, looking down on their luck; sitting outside the casino either waiting to be picked up, or with bottles of whiskey to drown their sorrows, probably trying to ignore the gargantuan loss of money that they must have sunk.

“Hmm…” Angela began, as I heard her heels clicking against the concrete pavement. She threaded her arm through mine, holding onto me tightly, and I felt as though we were the most dapper looking couple of women in the entire town. I felt my chest puff out with pride.

“What is it, doll?”

“Is that the entrance there?” She asked, pointing over to the general direction of two rather scary looking guards, who stood before a large, luxuriously red door. “I’ve been feeling as though we’ve been watched this whole time, and I think I just saw why.”

 _Being watched_ …? That was a curious way to put it. I looked at Angela’s expression as she faced the two guards before the door. I paused.

The guards looked frightening, and certainly intimidating in their stature. It looked to me like they had upped their muscle for The Palace lately – which begged even more questions in my mind about what was _really_ going on inside.

One was a chubby, large man in a pig’s mask, with even more muscle along his arms to compensate for any misconception about his fitness anyone may have. I could see it written all over – or rather, beneath – his given face that he was a man who meant business.

The one next to him was a man who was not chubby, but instead broad in both tallness and overall stature, and who was wearing a rather menacing scarecrow mask, with bits of straw and material loosely glued together to make for a crudely terrifying appearance.

He saw me as I looked at him curiously. I knew I recognized him. That posture…where did I know him from?

“Eek!” He chirped, and the man next to him looked at him with a vacant expression.

“What?” I replied, as we walked over to the door.

“Uh, nothing!”

I raised an eyebrow as he looked rather skittish, and _then_ I recognized him at the same time as Angela.

He placed his hands on his head in a panic.

“N-Now, ladies, you liste-”

“Hey, I know you!” Angela declared proudly, as we walked over to the guards. I suddenly felt much less intimidated than I had just moments ago. “You’re Jamison Fawkes, from the conspiracy to blow up the library case a few months back! I remember!”

“No I’m not! No way! What’re you talkin’ about, mate!”

I looked at him unimpressed. He looked as skittish as ever.

“That. The accent for one. The consistently jumpy posture for another, and not to mention your prosthetic leg and arm, which is quite telling.” I replied, in a very matter of fact tone. “Shall I go on?”

The chubby man didn’t intervene, but instead turned to face the man at his side. Jamison made a sudden shriek of displeasure, and wagged a finger at him disapprovingly.

“Don’t you go lookin’ at me like that, Mako!”

“…”

Angela and I stood in disbelief before the man jumping out of his skin, and I sighed, exasperated. I hadn’t expected to see this guy any time soon.

Angela had come with me for that case just a few months prior, and that was one of the instances where I suggested that she shouldn’t come with me anymore, in case she were to get blown up or shot at in any way. I could barely believe that _this_ man was one of the reasons responsible for my attempts to keep Angela safe.

I folded my arms.

“Well?”

He looked at me nervously from behind his scarecrow mask.

“What?!”

“…You gonna let us in or what?”

The larger man at his side let out a loud grumble of a sigh. Jamison, however, was taken by the idea that I was there to arrest him, and babbled as such.

“No, I swear I didn…what?” He began, and then stopped in his tracks. “What? Wait, you aren’t here to take me in? To throw me over the hot coals of the law?!”

“Not this time.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Don’t push it, Fawkes.”

He tapped his fingers together, as he and Mako exchanged a look.

“…Go.”

Angela and I were both surprised to hear the voice of the larger man next to Jamison Fawkes’ scrawny, lanky figure. His voice was deep, stoic, and I looked at him with a surprised glance. I could tell he was thoroughly unamused by the situation, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything else about it.

A meaty hand came from his side, and held open the door.

“Uh, thanks.” I said cautiously, scanning any sign of life behind his mask.

He didn’t reply.

Angela gave Jamison one other look over as she walked past him, and with a sudden waft of heat and alcohol in the air, we realized that we had made it – The Palace was open for our leisure. The door slammed behind us.

We were here now, for better or worse – and Angela and I knew that the action was only just beginning when we heard a loud, alarming ruckus to our right hand side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, folks! I'd also like to take the time to thank you all for your support, it really does mean a lot. Hope you enjoy!

We had now officially entered The Palace – but Angela and I didn’t have much time to soak up the ambience of this crooked, alcohol-soaked den too much before our attention was taken to our right.

“What’s going on over there?” Angela asked me, and noticed the unimpressed expression on my face. “Fareeha…?”

“…I feel like I recognize a crowd of that size.”

It was true. I definitely _did_ recognize a crowd of that size.

A crowd that big somewhere like this? Well, that almost certainly meant that somebody was doing incredibly well, and that people probably found the whole incident pretty dubious to begin with. I knew who would be at the forefront of something like that; who very much relished in all of the attention that it brought to be able to turn the tide in your favour with a slight of hand.

I knew very, _very_ well.

“Read ‘em and weep, Akande. Your time’s up. You know, I even held back on you the last couple of times too and I _still_ won. Maybe you’re losing your edge?”

A Spanish accent came through the raucous crowd, along with the slam of a loud fist pounding against the gambling tabletop.

“I want a re-match!” The man boomed from across the table; wagging a meaty finger in the direction  of the culprit. “You were undoubtedly cheating!”

“Tsk, tsk!” The woman replied. “Now, now. Nobody likes a sore loser, do they?”

“You’re a dead woman, Colomar! _Dead_!”

The man before her shot up angrily from his seat, knocking it backwards as he did so. He wore a tight-fitting white suit, and looked as though he was about to burst a vein in his neck from being so furious with exactly who I knew was sitting there.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for your debt collectors.” She replied, uninterested in the man’s seething anger, and looking at her nails flippantly. “You know, if I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, I’d be even richer than I am right now with all _your_ money burning a hole in my pocket.”

The man before the Spanish woman that I knew so well looked so angry that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He punched against one of The Palace’s walls, leaving a cracking, indented mark, and pointed a bloody fist at the perpetrator of his anger. She smirked.

“You are _dead_!”

Two large guards appeared from one of the doors surrounding the lobby of the casino, walked up to the angry man before them, who was now flailing around his hands as though he just couldn’t believe the amount of money that got swindled away from him.

“Excuse me, sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m leaving of my own accord!” He barked, wiping his knuckles on his white suit, making for a rather grizzly smear of blood, and violently shook off their hands. “I’m never coming back, either. You can pass _that_ directly on to Satya!”

Angela and I exchanged a look of intrigue at the scene unfolding before us.

“Should we go over?” she asked, and I sighed wearily.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to, sweetheart.”

“Have to…? Why’s that?”

“Because that woman there, getting into a whole heap of trouble,” I mumbled through sparking up a cigarette, “is Sombra.”

Angela raised an eyebrow at the woman before her, who was leaning back on her chair in a very cocky manner.

“ _That’s_ Sombra?”

“Yeah.”

“ _That’s_ your ex? Really?”

I laughed at Angela’s unimpressed tone.

“What’s the matter? Not a fan?”

Angela scoffed.

“I just didn’t think you’d go for someone so…cocky.”

I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, and Angela folded her arms.

“Well, we didn’t exactly do a lot of talking. It was more of an ‘I’m bored and so are you’ kind of thing.”

Angela ran a hand through her hair, smirking knowingly at me, despite that I deliberately left out the – literally - somewhat sordid details.

“I see.”

Sombra looked up from her glinting, golden chips resting on her poker desk, and our eyes met for a brief moment.

In hindsight, I think we were both dumbfounded to see the other again after such a long time. I’d never seen such a look of shock on her usually overly confident face.

It was always a strange sensation – coming face to face with somebody that you were once so intimate with. I knew, as we stared at each other through the obnoxious gaggle of patrons that littered the lobby’s floor, that nobody quite knew Sombra in the ways that I did, and we had never talked too intimately in the first place. The littered scars of her body, the taste of her lips, the ways that she would want me the most in the night-time. Nobody knew Sombra in the ways that I did…or at least for a brief time.

Her violet eyes felt like their gaze was going to burn a hole into mine. Neither one of us knew what to do, where to look, let alone what to say. But luckily, Sombra was always the one that was the least hesitant in taking direct action, and eventually closed her eyes with a sigh before placing a resigned hand on her face.

“Ya estoy lista para ese trago…” she groaned, and downed the glass of clear spirits next to her in one gulp.

I was ashamed of my relief as I saw her heave herself up from her seat, mumbling something to the dealer behind the counter, who scraped off all of the chips into what looked like a small, portable safe unit, and locked it up firmly. She was dressed in a purple tuxedo; a white shirt beneath her jacket, and a purple tie alongside. Her hair shone under the lights; showing off that it always had the same, purple sheen to it, and - as Sombra nodded to the dealer in some kind of confirmation - her dark hair bounced against her right shoulder as she walked over to Angela and I.

I felt as awkward as I sounded when I greeted her. She looked at me expectantly.

“…Nice to see you again, Sombra.”

She scoffed at my underwhelming greeting.

“Pleasantries, Fareeha? Really?”

“Well, I…”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Aren’t places like this ‘beneath’ you?”

“No. I have other business here today besides you, as hard as that must be for you to wrap your head around.”

Sombra laughed to herself sardonically.

“Oh, yeah. It’s real hard for me to comprehend that you’re here to see something else when we haven’t spoken since we broke up. Very difficult.”

I rolled my eyes at her juvenile sarcasm, and watched Sombra raise her eyebrow at Angela; who looked at her with an unwaveringly stoic resolve.

“And who’s this? Your new woman?”

Angela and I flinched at Sombra’s sudden remark. I began to reply pointedly.

“ _Actually_ , this is -”

“Angela Ziegler,” Angela replied, and I could hear the apprehensively polite tone in her voice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Sombra replied, a dull, uninterested tone in her voice, and a knowing smirk written on her face. Angela, unaffected by Sombra’s brisk nature, smiled serenely back at her, which threw her off.

I could tell that she was dying to wind up Sombra; to play her at her own game. But Angela – rightly – decided to let it go. For all of my remarks of how I was here on other business, I felt a little foolish, as we did actually need Sombra’s help. I was praying with all my might that Amelie had talked to her already.

As we stood in the centre of the casino; the aforementioned gaggle of individuals breaking up into their preformed groups as they were, before Sombra ruined the life of a wealthy businessman; I finally began to notice the surroundings for what they were – unreasonably gaudy, and overly expensive.

The Palace was exactly that - a real palace. Amongst the sound of clinking glasses from the bar, the jubilant cheers of gambles that paid off at the poker tables and slot machines cranking away from their colourful levers, it really was a hotspot for all things addictive. I dreaded to think of the kinds of things that lay under the surface. I certainly wasn’t gonna pry.

“This place is truly something, isn’t it…” Angela said in awe, looking around herself as she stood.

“Your first time rolling the dice, is it?” Sombra retorted. Angela waved a dismissive hand.

“Oh, no, no. This is just my first time in _this_ casino.”

“Dark horse, aren’t you?”

There was golden décor all along the pillars, a large, circular stage, covered by a well-spread red velvet curtain. A lone microphone stood in the middle, glinting beneath the stage’s lights, awaiting somebody to take the lonely spot behind it. I knew that was Amelie Lacroix’s favourite place to be on any given night. I folded my arms as I observed further.

Behind us were decorative, plastic plants; large posters of years-old Hollywood movies lined along the walls, and a sprawling staircase that led up to other tables for the restaurant that lay below the balcony. It was a lavish, extravagant building – and here, in the back alleyway of this place, lay the potential clue to the attempted murder of Amelie Lacroix – as well as potentially Brigitte Lindholm.

I felt stalwart in my resolve. I looked to Sombra with a determined gaze she knew well, and Angela was smirking to herself at how wound up Sombra seemed before us both.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did Amelie Lacroix talk to you yet?”

Sombra’s ears pricked up at the mention of the singer that she was getting to know very well.

“ _Amelie_ …?” she asked me, looking curiously at us both. “I thought you said you weren’t here for anything to do with me. Did something happen to her?”

“Both of those things are sort of true. She said that she was almost attacked in the back alleyway of this place a little while back. Couple of days ago, she claims.”

Sombra’s eyes widened in horror at the knowledge, and looked at us both with surprise.

“Really…?”

“Yeah.”

The woman before us frowned, and folded her arms; resting her elbow in one hand, and tapping at her cheek as she thought.

“She never mentioned anything to me about it.”

I shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

“Maybe she just didn’t want to worry you,” Angela chipped in, a sympathetic look on her face, and I could see that Sombra was taken aback by her pleasant attitude. “Sometimes it’s better to keep the ones we care about at arm’s length.”

Sombra’s eyes flickered towards me, and faltered beneath her eyelashes.

I felt the well of guilt that I had pushed down into the bottom of my stomach springing a leak. I rubbed the back of my neck, and Angela looked at us both puzzled.

Sombra was visibly annoyed with herself for getting emotional.

“Look, if there’s nothing else, I’m -”

“There is,” I interjected quickly; keen to not lose Sombra’s attention, and especially knowing how fast she wanted to get away from us. “There is, Sombra. Please, hear us out. It’s for Amelie’s sake.”

Sombra rolled her eyes with a groan. I could tell that this was all a front for the fear of losing someone else.

“Ugh!” She moaned angrily. “God, why me? I don’t _think_ so, pobrecita. Ahí nos vidrios.”

I quickly launched my hand onto Sombra’s wrist. She looked at me aghast.

The first touch to each other’s skin in almost a year and a half, and it was in this kind of setting? Both of us were a little out of our depth in our feelings, and not to mention, this was hardly a loving touch. This was a _you aren’t getting away that easily_ grasp, because I knew when Sombra didn’t want to be found, you damn well couldn’t – no matter how hard you tried.

“Not so fast.” I interrupted. “You think I don’t know what that means?”

“Get off of me!” She chided, and tried to shake her wrist free of my grip. I was stronger, and held on as hard as I could without hurting her.

Angela looked at us both with concern.

“Fareeha…”

“You _better_ stay and help her, Sombra, because if you don’t, she could die.”

“And how do you know that?!” Sombra scolded back. “You’re just some two-bit investigator! How could you possibly know that she’d die!”

“Because Brigitte is in the _hospital_ right now from what _I_ think is the same attacker!” I began, and our voices were becoming raised. “Don’t you care at all about anything other than yourself?!”

I felt a sudden hot sting on the other side of my face, along with a loud noise ring in my ears.

“Fareeha!” Angela gasped again, and I let go of Sombra’s wrist.

She was shaking before me in rage, with tears in her eyes; and Angela held onto my arm gently. I placed my hand against my cheek.

Sombra had slapped me, hard. I suppose I had touched a nerve.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Tears of frustration or of sadness – I really couldn’t tell which.

“You really are such an idiot!” Sombra scolded, and wiped her eyes furiously. “Ugh!”

“Sombra, wait!”

“Leave me _alone_!”

And as fast as the slap had reached contact with my cheek; the loud sound seemingly reverberating around the room; Sombra stormed off in the general direction of the dressing rooms and backstage.

I sighed. Angela turned my face to face her, and touched the burning area where Sombra had slapped me gently. She grimaced at me, and my eyes began to readjust to my surroundings properly.

“…You doing okay?” She asked, a concerned tone in her voice. I laughed to myself, ashamed at the relief I felt at Sombra leaving – even if we did have to spend the foreseeable rest of the day with her.

“.Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I replied. “Sorry you had to see that. I didn’t realize that she would take anything so personally.”

“I understand. Sometimes ex partners can be even more difficult than we ever think they’re going to be.”

I looked at Angela’s gentle expression fall to one of sadness for a flicker of a second, as she looked away from my face. She stroked my cheek with her thumb.

I rested my hand on hers, curious about why such an expression befell her, but I knew both of us had a lot of ground to cover in the life that I wanted us to spend together. I smiled warmly at her; perhaps this could be spun into something gold of our own after all.

“…Come on,” I suggested with a grin, and took her by the hand. Angela blinked in surprise. “Let’s take a look around while we give Sombra some time to cool off.”

Angela nodded with a smile, and squeezed my hand.

“Alright…a date, is it?”

I laughed, and smiled at her warmly.

“Sure.”

 It felt nice, for a brief moment, to unwind in the ways that we did.

The first stop was the poker table. I felt as though Angela and I were high rollers; a high class couple, with her arm threaded through mine, falling all over each other in our own ways, and my lips tingling even more than usual to press them against hers.

“What’ll it be, miss?” the dealer said. “You want to play?”

“Deal me in!” Angela announced proudly, and shuffled onto a stool.

I was impressed, as I stood behind Angela, and watched as she was actually winning quite a bit of money, on very little of our own. She won the first round, and then the following two; leaping up from the stool and into my arms with a triumphant chuckle.

“Ha!” she declared; her finger prodding at my collarbone. “Now you can’t stop me from paying for dinner dates.”

I stroked her lower back as I held her; our noses touching just so.

“I can certainly try, Miss Ziegler.”

Angela beamed at me; a bright, pearly white smile, as we continued our flirting and venturing between smooth, green velvet tables; and listening to the satisfying click of the roulette wheel spinning before our eyes.

The multi-coloured glare of the fruit machines was our last stop, and today was proving to be quite the adventure of its own.

“Do you want a go, Fareeha?” Angela asked me, standing up from the fruit machine that we had claimed as our own. “I bet you’re good at gambling.”

I laughed.

“Perhaps a little _too_ good, and by that, I mean I lose all my money every time.”

“Aww, come on, it’ll be fun!” she goaded, and I grinned down at her smiling face.

“…Oh, all right.”

I shuffled onto the red stool before me, and Angela wrapped her arms around my neck, resting them on my shoulders; her perfume intoxicating and as charming as she was. She rest her head on her arms, her cheek pressing closely and warmly against my own – a welcome distraction from the gambling.

I pulled the lever, and watched as my eyes were boggled by the fruit whizzing before me.

Slamming the buttons, I somehow managed to get a good roll. The coins clinked into the bottom of the machine, and Angela’s cheek pressed a little harder against the surface of my own from her smile.

“Well done, Fareeha! See, I told you.”

“What can I say? I have a lucky charm with me.”

-

Angela and I had a lot of fun; impromptu dates once more proving to be a fantastic experience with her at my side. She held a spirited fire in her eyes every time she looked at me in that place. My worries from earlier seemed to be so far in the past that I barely remembered it had even happened.  

“I can’t believe how much we won, Fareeha!” Angela grinned, holding dozens of golden chips in her hands. “Considering we only had a little left, we actually came away with a nice tidy amount!”

“I can’t believe how good _you_ are at gambling. Butter wouldn’t melt from the look of you, but you’ve got quite the devilish side, hm?”

Angela chuckled, cashing in her chips at the exchange that we had walked to, and shoving the dollar bills into her pockets.

“I suppose I must. But isn’t it more exciting that way?”

“Of course.”

I grinned at her, and she slipped her arm through mine once more as we walked around the luxurious casino. We had exhausted all of our gambling options, and I knew Angela was much more sensible than I about keeping our money once we had it.

She sighed. I knew we couldn’t ignore the reality of why we were really here any longer.

I braced myself for the question I knew was coming.

“…Do you think Sombra has cooled off yet?”

I bit my lip. I knew that we had to give Sombra the space she needed, almost more than anyone else I knew – and I just had to pray that she hadn’t slipped away during the couple of hours that we spent messing around on The Palace’s floor.

“I hope so, Angela.” I replied honestly. “I really hope so.”

“I’m sure she’s had enough time to get her head around everything. I imagine she’s probably just scared of something happening to Amelie. It’d be quite a shock…to suddenly hear that might be happening with somebody that you love.”

“You noticed that too, huh?” I said, impressed by her observation.

“Yeah. It only started to really flare up her temper when we began to touch on that subject. Not to mention it is just… _jarring_ to see somebody that you used to be so close with, isn’t it?”

I looked at her sympathetically.

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

Angela laughed, a dark expression falling across her face as we began to walk towards the dressing rooms.

The closer we approached the dressing rooms, the closer the sign that said “NO NON-STAFF ADMITTANCE” became glaringly less and less avoidable. Angela and I still walked towards it, as bold as brass before the people within the confines of the casino, and – with one sneaking hand – I pressed down on the door handle; praying that nobody actually saw me doing it. Miraculously, it seemed to have worked. I hurried Angela in before me, who hastily scurried in.

“Quickly, quickly…” I whispered, and Angela giggled.

“I feel like we’re breaking the rules at school.”

“I have a feeling a _lot_ worse than just detention will happen here if we get caught.”

Angela and I emerged into a sterile-looking, white hallway; lit up by tiny, crappy bulbs, illuminating the way to dressing rooms in green and luminous white. There were bits of faux tiara jewels, colourful feathers and god knows what else that were lining the speckled eggshell tiles. With each echoing step reverberating off of the walls, we scanned each door – ones that were open, we ignored – until we finally arrived at one.

There wasn’t another door in this hallway that wasn’t either opened, or empty. There was nowhere else Sombra could have gone.

This was it - a reunion I didn’t particularly want.

“Wait.”

Angela’s hand placed itself gently but with force against my arm. I paused as my hand hovered over the door’s handle.

“Mm…?”

“Wait just a second.” Angela whispered at me again, holding up a hand in the air. “Do you hear that? Behind the door…?”

I blinked at her in surprise, and pressed my ear to the door; straining to hear the tangle of voices that lay before us.

“…don’t…what…it was…”

I recognized one of them as Sombra, but the other was unfamiliar.

“Voices…” I whispered.

“Do you think it’s Amelie in there, Fareeha?”

I furrowed my brow.

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

Angela and I exchanged a look of disbelief, unsure and unbelieving of any other options we might have had to return to Sombra, before I placed my hand on the door’s handle; swinging it open abruptly; to meet with a sight that I had never expected to see today.

“Excuse me, this is for _authorized_ personnel only. May I ask you to show me your identification?”


	5. Chapter 5

Unrattled, unphased, and completely unexpected, Angela and I were greeted with the sight of Sombra and somebody who was most definitely _not_ Amelie Lacroix – and their handsome, terrifying glare of the powerful woman before us.

The dressing room we were stood in was definitely one of prestige; one that I could very easily to envision Amelie Lacroix sitting in on night’s that had passed, doing her make-up and so on.

There was everything in here that you could expect of a star’s dressing room. From the mirror lit up with lightbulbs all the way to the overbearingly large closet, stuffed full with nightgown dresses and ballroom attire, it was complete with all kinds of nightclub luxuries. And much like the floor outside in the hallway, bits of feathers and glitter dusted along the carpet beneath our feet. It was easy to get a feel for this place in an instant.

“Well?” The woman before Angela and I repeated expectantly.

I knew instantly who this must be in this kind of environment – and the only person so far to actually ask us for official authorization.

Sombra looked at me, dumbfounded that we’d actually come to look for her – but even more alarmed that we’d met face to face with…

“Satya Vaswani,” I stated bluntly – a sure realization coming over me as the name left my lips.

She smirked at me, clearly proud of the knowledge that somebody she’d never met before knew her. She flicked her long hair over her shoulders, and raised a pointed eyebrow at the two of us.

“This is the boss of The Palace…?” Angela whispered.

I nodded, not taking my eyes off of her. Sombra continually looked at me, almost apologetically this time; whilst Satya kept her sharp, piercing gaze on my own.

 “Excuse me,” Satya repeated impatiently, her dark eyes glaring. “ _Tell_ me your _identification_ numbers, or you will be removed.”

Angela and I exchanged a look of confusion in deciding what to do, whilst Sombra looked at us with a seemingly neutral expression. I could tell what she was doing – trying not to show Satya Vaswani any knowledge that we knew each other prior to today. The less she knew about our relationships, the better.

If this really was for Amelie’s sake, we had to play this right – and she knew better than anyone about keeping our cards close to our chest.

“We…don’t have them, I’m afraid. We must have taken a wrong turn.”

Satya scoffed at my obvious lie.

“A wrong turn? Despite the glaring signs outside saying ‘no unauthorized personnel’? Don’t take me for a fool, madam.”

_Shit_. I had forgotten about the sign. Angela grimaced.

“Miss Vaswani,” she began. “I’m terribly sorry. Both of us are so sorry for any intrusion that we may have made. Tourist’s curiosity – it was my first time here, and I just wanted to look around everywhere that I could. We’ll be leaving out to the car park now.”

Angela was smart – mixing in honest truths with honest lies. And her infliction in her voice was slight; incredibly slight, where she used it; but it was noticeable – and Sombra’s eyebrow raised slightly at the suggestive tone of Angela’s voice. Leaving out to the _car park_.

Satya Vaswani, however, didn’t seem to notice as heavily as Sombra and I did, if only because Angela’s tone masked it well. I felt as though I was holding my breath for the longest five seconds of my life before she responded.

Beneath her polite tone was a scathing discipline – one that Angela and I had chosen to ignore for the sake of our heads – and Amelie’s.

“…Very well. During your next visit to The Palace, please be advised to follow the signs more closely. We thank you for your patronage.”

Satya turned to face Sombra, who looked at her with a determined gaze in her eyes.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Suit yourself.” Sombra replied nonchalantly, and Satya – walking past us with one final, knowing glare – held the door open for us.

“Come. Allow me to walk you out.”

Angela and I felt our backs stiffen, as Satya stood, looking expectantly at us. We stood, a little frozen in our tracks. Sombra cleared her throat.

“Uh, I can do that, boss. Don’t trouble yourself with these clowns.”

“Are you sure?” Satya asked, looking at her suspiciously. “Since when do you offer to do me anything?”

“Come on,” Sombra pleaded, and dropped her voice. “They don’t deserve…you know.”

Satya raised an eyebrow, looking at Angela and I with an unimpressed glare. We didn’t deserve what, exactly? What were we about to be frogmarched into?

“…Fine.”

Without even a single word more, Satya left towards the entrance – and allowed the door to slam shut. I felt even more ashamed of my relief as she left. I could barely recall the last time I had felt that intimidated by someone else’s presence, and let alone in front of somebody that I wanted to protect.   
  
Before I could even usher out a single word in the depths of this dressing room, Sombra was the first to speak.

“ _Don’t_ say anything,” she began sharply, “come with me.”

Angela nodded to me, and I nodded in turn. We knew to do as we were told in this instance.

As Sombra opened the door, allowing us all to walk out towards the entrance from which we’d entered, I felt stupid. I felt sheepish, naïve, and as though we had nearly just gotten into such an unnecessary situation that I hadn’t even remotely seen coming. I hadn’t anticipated at all that Sombra may have been in cahoots with the boss of this place. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t say anything,” she repeated as we walked past the crowds of people, and Angela and I silently followed.

We re-emerged eventually outside of the casino – Jamison and his large, hog-like companion stood outside the doors – and Sombra walking us all the way over to the car park. I was privately grateful that Jamison Fawkes had known to keep his mouth shut this time and to not make this situation any stranger.

“Return home,” Sombra stated plainly, but her lavender eyes were full of expression. “And keep an ear out.”

“Kee-”

“Don’t say anything,” she stated firmly. “Don’t.”

She gave Angela and I one final look up and down; a curious, concerned look written across her usually cocky expression; and turned quickly on one heel to walk back towards The Palace itself.

Angela and I exchanged looks of utter, complete confusion.

“What the hell?” Angela asked me, a nervous laugh in her voice. “That was all…”

“…Cryptic.” I finished for her, and it was. Even for somebody like Sombra – somebody who prided herself on her stealth and quick wits – that was awfully cryptic. I knew Sombra loved to gamble; but just what kind of power did Satya Vaswani have? And further still, why was Sombra involved with her?

I realized that most importantly; as Angela and I slipped ourselves into my car, and felt the rumble of the engine beneath us, chugging away at the gas; where did this leave the Lacroix case? And Brigitte’s, at that, if this was a wash?

If there was rain tonight, that could wash away any remaining evidence. I closed my eyes in turmoil, and began to drive us back home.

Our first trip to The Palace had been interesting for all the wrong reasons – but I was always glad to have Angela at my side.

-

The trip back home was silent. Both Angela and myself were completely wrapped up in our own thoughts; thoughts of Satya Vaswani swirling in our minds, and whatever it was that we had narrowly escaped thanks to the quick action of Sombra. I pulled up the car before the bar that we both knew so well, and Angela checked her watch – it was already gone three o’clock. We’d missed the meeting time for Amelie – and Sombra had also been unreasonably mysterious.

Angela frowned, as we sat in the car. I looked at her.

“…What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Her gaze faltered, and turned to look at me; her familiar warm smile thawing the atmosphere away.

“Besides everything that happened,” she began, “I was just thinking what a lovely time today was with you, Fareeha.”

I was taken aback by her earnest response, and my heart felt as though it were about to melt all over again.

“Angela…” I replied, a soft tone in my voice. “You really always do find new ways to be adorable, don’t you?”

She chuckled.

“I’m just saying. I know that today didn’t quite go as we’d planned, but I really…I really did enjoy it, Fareeha. Thanks for inviting me along.”

I grinned at her, and she placed her hand on top of mine as it rest on the gear stick.

“Thanks for wanting to come along in the first place. I loved having such a nice time with you, too.”

“Then let’s do it again soon, okay?”

I nodded eagerly; The Palace, my discomfort over the cases and Satya Vaswani a thing of the past; and Angela leant in to kiss my cheek shyly.

I felt my entire face flush red. She chuckled, a bashful blush rising to her cheeks alongside mine, and I couldn’t help but laugh giddily alongside her.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Geez, Angela…”

“You _are_ cute, you know.”

I shook my head coyly.

“Hey, now. What’ll I do if people hear that local investigator Fareeha Amari has a soft side?”

Angela laughed affectionately, and stepped out of the car.

“Who knows?” She called back.

I felt my heart racing a mile a minute as I opened my car door, and welcomed the cool breeze of autumn to bring me back down to earth. As I closed my eyes, I felt the wind refresh my hot skin; my forehead sticky from the anxiety felt previously back at the casino; and opening my eyes again felt like a new dawn.

Angela’s keys rattled as she tried to unlock the bar door; but we both came to a haunting realization as we noticed the same thing – which was that her keys were sticking as she tried to turn it to unlock.

“What the…?” She mumbled to herself – and placed her hand on the door handle.

I froze.

“…Angela, don’t tell me…”

“…it’s unlocked…”

My blood ran a horrible, icy cold. The hairs along my arms prickled up with the sense of sudden dread and certain alarm.

I placed my hands on Angela’s shoulders, who looked at me with a fear that I’d never seen in her eyes before. I knew she locked up today – _she_ knew it, too – and we’d just pissed off somebody incredibly powerful. But could they really have acted this fast?

“Stay behind me, okay?” I told her.

Angela looked at me incredulously, and shook her head.

“No way! Are you joking? I can’t just let you walk in there like some kind of meat shield!”

“Angela, I’ve got my gun with me. I’ve got a better chance of protecting us both!”

Angela shook her head, an angry expression in her eyes directed to whatever was awaiting us in the bar – if there was to be anyone at all.

“No. You aren’t dying because I might have forgotten to lock the door, Fareeha. I’m going in.”

“You know you locked it tho- Angela! _Wait!_ ”

Angela slipped from my grip against her shoulders, and opened the door wide; and came face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

I froze in my tracks as my eyes met with a familiar sight.

“Oh! Hello there, Fareeha. _You’re_ the one we were instructed to come and see, of all people. Daughter to an old friend of mine, general disappointment to the world. You’ve been a busy girl, haven’t you, since we last met? Am I to understand that this is your girlfriend? Rather clumsy of her to leave the bar unlocked.”

I wasn’t bothered about the obnoxious, unfortunately familiar masked man before me. I wasn’t bothered about the fact that Jamison Fawkes and his silent companion were stood behind the man I knew as well; but what I _was_ bothered about, was that I was absolutely livid at the man pointing a shotgun’s barrel nose down at Angela – who, rather fearlessly – stared right back at him.

“I didn’t leave the door unlocked.” She replied bluntly, her nose inches away from the cold steel of death.

“You didn’t?” he goaded. “Are you sure?”

Jamison laughed in the background, cackling like a hyena, whilst his intimidatingly large companion remained silent.

“I’m sure.”

“Really?” The man replied, shrugging. “How odd. We managed to waltz on in here just fine.”

 “Leave her alone, Gabriel. I thought it best to call you by your real name, as opposed to that ridiculous moniker that you go by these days. The _Reaper_? Really? I didn’t realize you were perpetually thirteen, but I suppose that explains away your petty nature.”

The man behind the mask chuckled darkly; his appearance was just as I remembered it. Clad all in black with a bone-white, skeleton-like mask covering his face; known for terrorizing the people that he hated, he was placed in jail for four years. I’d had no idea that he was released - let alone that he was hired as some kind of strongarm. Time flies when you’re having fun.

He unstrapped the mask around his face; resigning as he took it off to reveal a weathered, scarred expression. I’d always thought it was a shame that he followed such a dark path when he could have been so much more; I’d especially been disappointed in my potential makeshift uncle throwing that title away, as my mother had previously referred to him once when I was younger.

“Are either of you really in any position to be this…brave?"

I looked at him fiercely.

“Look. Leave Angela alone. If I’m the one you were sent to see, then point that gun at me. I’m not going to do anything.”

Angela gasped, as my eyes narrowed.

“Fareeha, don't!” she scolded. 

“Aww, how sweet." Gabriel stated bluntly, and nodded in my direction as he looked at Angela. "She must be a real catch, huh?”

Angela’s fists curled up at her sides in rage, and I raised my hands. Both of us began to notice little things in the background; the smashed bottles in the distance, the jukebox playing the same part of a song on a loop of what was more than likely now-scratched vinyl.

Gabriel laughed before us, and – much to our surprise – actually lowered his gun.

“…What?” I asked, dumbfounded. Generally criminals like him often followed through with their death-threats. 

“Alright, alright,” he began, and rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Surprise. We’re not here to kill or maim you today. But we _were_ sent here to scare you, which clearly worked a treat.”

Angela and I blinked in surprise.

“What?” I repeated.

“By who?” Angela asked tentatively, as though we didn't already know.

Gabriel walked behind the bar, humming to himself as he cherry-picked the finest bottle of whiskey that Angela had to offer from the shelves.

“Who else in this town? Come on.”

“Satya Vaswani.” I stated plainly, knowing the answer full well, and I had a sense of déjà vu from just hours earlier.

Gabriel nodded, opening the bottle with a satisfying hiss, and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. He gasped as he removed it from his mouth, exhaling in satisfaction, and placing it down on the counter with a loud bang.

“Of course. I see you aren’t _quite_ as dumb as you look.”

I scoffed.

“ _I’m_ being told how ‘dumb’ I look by a guy who willingly dresses like the grim reaper?”

Gabriel laughed, still jubilant in his position of power, whilst Jamison and Mako sat beside the darts board in the back.

“The beauty of all of this, Fareeha,” Gabriel began once more, “is that it doesn’t _matter_ what you think. From the time you helped the police to put me and Jamison in jail, all the way up to today. You aren’t in power, no matter how much you want to be in this town. There’s only one force that is. So we’ve been sent here to set you the little reminder - keep your nose out from where it doesn’t belong.”

I scoffed. 

"Or what?"

"Or I'll -"

“Isn’t this all going a little overboard?”

We all turned to face the sudden voice of Angela, who was stood with her arms folded over her blue petticoat.

“What?” Gabriel asked, his gruff voice unimpressed. Angela shook her head in disbelief.

“Look. All that happened today was we went into the dressing room area. We didn’t _do_ anything else. So why has Satya sent this mobilized hit squad after us?”

“Because the lady said so.”

Angela and I looked just as shocked as Jamison and Gabriel did to hear the gruff, deep tones of Mako from the back. For a man who didn’t say anything, it seemed almost poignant of him to speak. Sure, Satya Vaswani may have given the order – but that still didn’t answer the question of why. _Why_ did the lady say so?

If this was an attempt to dissuade us, it had completely backfired – because now I was surer than ever that she had something to hide.

Angela glared in defeat at the three men before us. Killing us or not, we had definitely been rattled.

“Okay,” she replied, plainly. “I see.”

Gabriel sighed. I was praying for this to be the mark of an already unwelcome visit coming to an end.

“Alright, ladies. I got my whiskey, and we got to put you guys in your place. I’m happy to leave this where it is as long as you _don’t_ come sniffing around The Palace anymore, alright?”

I knew better than to challenge three men in Angela’s bar with shotguns, no matter how inept I thought they all were, by asking ‘or what’ – but Gabriel could apparently read my expression shot for shot. He grinned, menacingly; any tone of reason now gone from his voice; picking up his shotgun from the counter as they moved towards the door behind us.

“If you do,” he began once more. “It isn’t just going to be you that we pay a visit to. How _is_ your mother doing these days, Fareeha? She dropped me like a hot potato when she found out what I’d been doing. She’s getting old, isn’t she? Not to mention blondie here.”

My temper flared. Angela could sense my rage, and I could sense hers in turn. I clenched my fists, and stepped up to Gabriel – getting in his face, gun or not.

“I swear to God,” I hissed, “if you touch either of them, I will fucking kill you.”

He snarled at me, and gave as good as he got.

“Then you’d better know your _place_ , Amari.” He stated, a grim undertone to his voice. We both stood, snarling in rage at each other, before he clicked his fingers to the members of his crew. “Let’s get out of this dump…and bring my whiskey with you.”

“Yes, boss!”

Jamison quickly picked up the whiskey bottle, and hurried past us. Mako moved Angela and I gently to the side with one push of his large arm in his attempt to get out of the door, and before we knew it, we heard the tinkle of the bell above the door as it slammed before us; and the silence of the room only broken by the dull repetition of the song wavering behind us.

Angela looked at me, and I looked at her; and I felt myself crumple as I watched Angela placed her hands over her face and sob. I knew it wasn't through terror, or sadness. I knew better than anyone. She was furious.

"Damn it..." she mumbled into her hands angrily. "Ugh!"

I pulled her against my chest in a tight embrace.

“We’re alive.” I reassured her. “We’re alright.”

Angela didn’t say anything after that – but as I held her sobbing angrily my arms, pressing her beautiful face against my collarbone – I knew that I had a lot of phonecalls to make tonight…and a new goal in mind of bringing The Palace to its knees for all that it had to answer for – whatever that might have been.

I had to talk to Sombra as soon as possible...and scratch the surface of the terror that lay beneath The Palace's real motives.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything that Angela Ziegler and I had gone through was more traumatic to think about afterwards than in the moment itself. I often found that thinking back on the event that you lived through was always so much worse than living it, somehow. At the time, you get through it. You feel the burning determination to survive, or the rationality of logic settling in, reinforcing your own strength.

But thinking about it afterwards highlights everything you don’t ever want to think about.

The possibilities of loss; the ache of regret. I hated hindsight more often than not.

Angela and I stood; firmly planted in the roots of the familiar bar, with her tears dropping onto the material of my top quietly. She didn’t want to cry, and god, I didn’t want her to either. I felt my heart splitting in two at just hearing her crying softly, and even moreso that she was _still_ trying to be strong. I hated how responsible I felt for her feelings by bringing her along on this trip with me.

The small patches of wet cotton grazed at my upper arms, and her slender fingers gripped to the back of my shirt; keeping me close, securely holding me to her chest; and all I _wanted_ to do was hold her, kiss her lips, tell her that I loved her and no matter what, _nothing_ was going to happen while I was around.

But no matter what I wanted to do, I felt…disgusting. I felt that it was exactly _because_ I was around that she had gotten into this situation in the first place. The nausea in my stomach at the idea that I could have put the woman I love in such danger churned as I held her.

“Are you okay?” I asked her gently. She nodded with a weak smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

We stood; amidst the cold, hollow shell of insecurity within the bar, and I opted to hold her warmly, reassuring her comfortingly that we were alive to fight another day. Those goons and Satya Vaswani may have stripped the bar temporarily of its cosy ambience, but I’d be damned if they were going to keep it that way.

We were going to clean up this bar, and get it back to normal – and despite that I left this next part out, I was now hellbent on taking down the assholes involved in all of this. As if I needed any more motivation, picking at the one I loved was certainly the mistake they needed to make.

“We’re alright.” I whispered against Angela’s vanilla hair. “We’re in one piece. You’re here with me.”

“I know,” she choked out. “And I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying so much.”

“Don’t be sorry, Angela, it’s not like this was an easy thing to go through.”

I stroked her blonde hair and kissed her forehead; lingering my lips against her skin with no protest from her part. She held me tighter with every subtle graze of my lips.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad.”

I tilted her face upwards slightly, and stroked her cheek with my thumb; brushing away her tears. I already knew her answer, but I knew she needed to get it off of her chest, too.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart?”

“Because I’m frustrated that somebody thinks that they can treat us this way,” she replied, and sniffed. “I _hate_ tyrants. People who behave in such selfish manners towards other people for their own gain. What gives any of them the right to point guns in our faces, because we ‘need’ a reminder? Satya isn’t my boss, and she’s certainly not yours. Not to mention whatever is going on with Brigitte and Amelie Lacroix. It’s all bullshit.”

I bit my lip slightly, as Angela looked up at me with watery eyes. Our height difference had always been something I loved, but even moreso as time went on. I looked down at the woman in my arms, and her inspirational defiance to the thugs that bothered us today. I smiled.

“You’re a real impressive woman, you know?”

Angela chuckled weakly, wiping away flashes of tears that trickled from her eyes.

“Impressively _angry_ , perhaps,” she said, and sighed. “But thank you, Fareeha.”

I thanked every lucky star in the sky that today hadn’t been the day either of us lost each other.

It felt as though we had danced our way impressively out of the spotlight of death; but it had definitely brought forward a lot of thoughts throughout the night – about my relationship with Angela, about the case of Brigitte and Amelie, and about Sombra’s involvement in all of this.

For the first time since starting in this line of work, I began to feel as though I was out of my depth.

Maybe I wasn’t right for all of this after all.

But worse still, my worst fears felt as though they had been confirmed; and that was that I wasn’t right for Angela Ziegler.

I lost count of the moments I held her as we stood in the bar. Even after she’d relaxed, I tried to savour every second. She didn’t move from them, and I wasn’t about to let her go. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, and her embrace felt tighter. I almost felt myself crying as I held her.

 _I’m sorry_ , I thought. _I’m so sorry that you had to deal with what you saw today._

But eventually, like all good things, it had to come to an end. Angela sighed and leant back in my embrace, hesitant to let go herself.

“Back to square one,” she mumbled with a weak smile, and I smiled back with the same amount of energy.

“I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of _you_ , Fareeha. Look at how well you take all of this in your stride.”

I shook my head.

“I’ve just…been in this profession longer, that’s all.”

After everything, both of us agreed that we needed to clean ourselves up; get some water on our faces, rejuvenate a little. I walked back up to my apartment to shower after we checked the bar over, just in case of any other people lingering in here with us, large broom in hand and ready to smack it against someone’s head. I almost felt disappointed that there _was_ nobody.

When I returned back downstairs from what was undoubtedly my fastest shower in the world, Angela had already begun to set up shop for the night’s customers. I said that she should take the night off, but she insisted on being open like normal, that working would help her relax.

I wasn’t one to argue with whatever might make her feel better. That was all I ever wanted for her, anyway.

Whilst Angela served the usual patrons at the bar (with copious amounts of people complimenting how beautiful her hair looked while down, to which I was in complete agreement), I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a toolbox from the back, and spent the rest of my night fixing up the jukebox; occasionally sweeping away any remnants of idiocy that those goons had left in their wake. For the thugs that they were, they were surprisingly considerate, with two bottle caps, a discarded packet of chips and a bubblegum wrapper all shuffled into one tiny pile.

“Thanks, Fareeha.” Angela said to me with a kind smile, bringing me over a whiskey just as I liked. She had to tap my head to get me out of my own thoughts, and I made a noise of disbelief at the sight of her.

“Oh! Sorry…guess I was miles away.”

“Thinking about a lot, hm?”

I nodded, and I tried to hide the shame from my eyes as I accepted the drink from her.

“I guess so.”

Angela noticed the sorrowful tone in my voice, but opted to leave me alone with my thoughts.

“Just let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

The jukebox was an easy fix, and the bar was back in ship-shape faster than either Angela or I could have anticipated. The night gradually relaxed into its own skin.

I walked her up to her apartment after the night was over; double locking the door this time; and watched as she walked in to her place.

“Goodnight, Fareeha.” Angela said, a weak, morose smile on her tired face. “See you tomorrow.”

I nodded, squeezing her shoulder as though nothing traumatic had happened today.

“Night, Angela. You…really did well today.”

She smiled a little brighter.

“You, too. Sleep well.”

“…And you.”

With a bashful smile, she closed her door gently – and I knew that my night was really just beginning.

My first point of call was absolutely to get in contact with Sombra after the day’s events.

Between Sombra, Brigitte and my mother, I knew that the order of thought was definitely the order of phone calls I should make. Logically, my mother _should_ be fine, considering that Gabriel and his idiot companions did what they were sent to do – but with Sombra, she had already - and cryptically - told me to ‘keep an ear out’, whilst Ingrid was probably waiting for any kind of news to do with Brigitte at all. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline.

As I returned to my apartment and office combined, I double locked the door behind me; unbuttoning my shirt, undoing the tie that Angela had fixed for me what seemed like a lifetime ago now, relaxing slightly into the ambience of a warm coffee and a cigarette.

I sunk down into my leather seat, and picked up the phone from the receiver. I let it hang limply from my hand for a moment, as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back; greeted with the sight of a clock upside-down.

“Jesus…” I whispered to myself, exhaling over the day that had just passed.

I looked down at my phone, and bit my lip anxiously. It was time to make my first call to Sombra in a _long_ time, and I had no idea where to even begin. I wanted to ask her about Amelie, to make sure that first and foremost, she was okay – it was incredibly rare to break any kind of agreement with a client, but especially one that had come to visit me so late on something that was so serious. But Sombra didn’t seem worried about that aspect, which was somehow reassuring.

My fingers moved like clockwork, and I felt a little ashamed of how well I still knew Sombra’s number, even after all this time. I remembered all of the times when I would call her to come over, and the times she did the same for me. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at the transparent nature of our relationship.

The phone rang once, before I was greeted by a quiet Spanish voice.

“Is this who I think it is?”

I paused.

“Uh…maybe?”

I heard Sombra pause, clearly assessing my voice, before she exhaled in relief.

 “…Good. I thought so.”

I felt a little calmer.

“Hey, Som-”

 “What the _hell_ were you thinking, coming after me to the dressing room?! As if I could help you with this situation! You barely told me a thing about Amelie, you tell me off _and_ pull at my heartstrings, and then you barge on into a place in The _Palace_ that clearly says no non-staff allowed?! Are you stupid, Fareeha! Do you know how dangerous that place is?!”

I felt a little _less_ calm. I had quite a few choice words for Sombra herself, but I took a deep breath, and centered myself as much as possible. I couldn’t deal with any more drama today.

“I’m calling because you told me to keep an ear out.”

Sombra made a noise of frustration.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“And?”

“We actually can’t discuss this over the phone. Not safely. I don’t know who’s listening, and neither do you. And if I know Satya as half as well as I think I do, I bet you got a _visit_. Right?”

My blood ran cold through my veins, and Sombra took my silence as all the confirmation she needed to digress. She clicked her tongue.

“...God damn it. I told her you didn’t deserve that!”

I was both surprised and touched by her concern.

“…It’s alright. We made it out in one piece.”

I could tell that she was pissed off that Satya had done something like that to me from her tone; and I anxiously awaited her finishing sentence.

“Look…meet me at the spot we used to meet at, tomorrow. Midday. And _don’t_ be late. Comprende?”

I knew better than to question someone as savvy as Sombra, especially when she had obviously made The Palace her second home from that behaviour. I sighed. This web was getting bigger and bigger by the day.

“…Alright.”

“Good,” she replied, relieved at my non-questioning of her methods. “Before you go – there are two more things.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure you come alone,” Sombra requested, “and whatever you do, Fareeha, do not call Amelie. _Remember_ , twelve o’clock. If I’m involved, let’s talk. See you.”

Sombra had hung up almost instantly, clipping away at the end of her last word; and I sat, dumbstruck at the conversation that had completely not gone the way I expected it to – but Sombra was nothing if not exciting.

It was incredibly strange to be told to not contact Amelie, when Amelie herself hadn’t contacted _here_ all day. What the hell was going on? A dodgy casino, my ex-girlfriend’s relations to the boss, a mysterious lounge singer in Amelie Lacroix, _and_ Brigitte Lindholm’s assault – who was responsible for all of this? Was it the same person?

I took a drag on my cigarette – a long one – as I realized that the final question was perhaps the most pivotal. Did I trust Sombra enough now to go alone to meet her, now that I knew she had ties to Satya Vaswani?

Everything swirled around in my mind like a violent whirlpool.

I had no answers for any of my situations. I closed my eyes, and rubbed at them over my eyelids; my fingers massaging them with a comfortable press.

I decided to push that to the back of my mind during my call with Ingrid. It lasted for no longer than two minutes. I got the impression talking with her that she was beginning to either lose faith in me, or Brigitte waking up – or worse, both.

I felt the pang of horrendous guilt and failure settle into my bones as she hung up the phone, and tried to convince myself that she was just tired. I knew I certainly was.

The last number I had to check was probably the most important to me – which was my mother.

I rung up the number with the satisfying whir of the telephone, and awaited for the sound of my mother to pick up. The rings felt as though they took forever, despite telling myself that this was just a precautionary call. There was no way those thugs went to visit my mother already.

Right?

Please pick up.

…Right?

_Please pick up._

Please –

“Hello? Who is this at _this_ hour? As if I have to ask.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as a familiar voice answered with a gruff tone of drowsiness.

“Thank _God_. Why did you take so long to answer?”

My mother chuckled at the other end of the phone sarcastically.

“Well, pardon me for sleeping at past midnight as an elderly woman, I’m sure. How terrible of me! Shouldn’t you be the one apologising for waking me?”

“I’m sorry, ma. I had to check that you were okay, and this is the first time I’ve really been able to be alone tonight.”

There was a long pause between us. I didn’t realize it until it was too late as to why.

“…Did something happen, Fareeha?”

I don’t know what it was about the sound of my mother saying my name, but the tears spilled out over my eyes before I could stop them.

My mother listened to me crying on her for what felt like a lifetime. I cried, and I cried some more, and then even further still. I hadn’t realized just how much everything felt as though it was on top of me.

“It’s alright, habib…”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Mom.”

In large, watery tears, I began to realize that I felt so utterly _buried_.

All of my feelings for Angela and the ways I was failing miserably to repress them, and why I believed I should be. All of the things going on in the case for both Brigitte and Amelie, the mystery surrounding them; and of course the sudden, unwelcome charge of Gabriel, Jamison and Mako into Angela’s bar, pointing a shotgun at our faces, all because _I_ brought her along with me.

I sniffled, and I could picture the warm smile of my mother down the other end of the phone. It was always such a comfort just to hear her voice, but especially in moments where I felt like little more than a helpless child.

“…Sorry, mom. I guess I just feel a bit overwhelmed.”

I sat, wiping my watery eyes away of their tears in my leather chair, and stubbing out the attempt I made at smoking a cigarette. I felt as pathetic as I was sure I must have looked.

“Fareeha,” my mother began. “I want you to listen to me, and take on board my advice. Okay?”

I dabbed at the edges of my eyes.

“…Alright.”

“This might seem like an overwhelming statement at first...but honestly, I think that you should think long and hard about what you want from life. You’re in this situation because of decisions you are making for yourself, as well as others. Don’t you think you should be more kind to yourself?”

As I listened, I thought how my mother often had little pearls of wisdom to share with me between her witty quips; and after a midnight call of her thirty-something year old daughter sobbing to her about women and work, I could tell this was one of those times. She sighed into the telephone, and I heard the click of her lighter at the end. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.

“Angela sounds like a good woman, and as well as that, Fareeha, she’s a _grown_ woman. A strong woman! She can make her own decisions, and pushing her away is just going to make her feel even worse than if you outright left. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

“But I don’t want to _hurt_ her, mom. Being absent from her life is so much better than knowing that I’m causing her pain every time I walk out of the door, never knowing if I’m coming back. What if I can’t give her what she needs?”

“What if you already _are_ what she needs?”

I felt dumbfounded by the near lightning response, and my mother continued her profound speech.

“Fareeha, you don’t _know_ what Angela needs because you aren’t _her_. How do you know she’s going to be falling all over herself with grief whenever you’re away from her side?”

I felt frustrated at the implication that such a simple statement was what all of this was about.

“It is not that simple. You really think I’m just doing this – feeling this way – because I think Angela’s _clingy_? I’m not that conceited, you know. What if something _does_ happen to me? Or worse yet, what if something happens, or somebody decides to target her?”

My mother paused, clearly digesting the food for thought.

“Well…I can’t pretend like those things could never happen. Especially in your line of work. But I want to remind _you_ of a couple of things.”

“And what are those?”

“The first being that you both survived today’s encounter. Angela sounds like she was actually quite brave in the face of adversity, you know. If whoever wanted to come for you, they wouldn’t spare her just because she was pretty, Fareeha. Sounds like you’re just avoiding reality of living in the same building with her as it is.”

“I am not!” I protested indignantly. “I just feel…scared.”

“About?”

_Opening up?_

_Allowing myself to truly love someone in the intense, deep way that I knew I already loved Angela? Failure in making sure my best friend was okay?_

I felt embarrassed, and I opted to remain quiet as she continued. She chuckled quietly.

“I see. I’ll get on with it then, shall I?”

I nodded, forgetting momentarily that she couldn’t actually see me _doing_ that.

“Fareeha, nobody is meant to live alone.” My mother stated, and I felt the weight dropping in my heart at the thought of any night Angela would have spent lonely. “Humans…we just aren’t built for it. Pure solitude, that is. I know you love your own space, just like your mother. But being entirely alone? No. That’s not healthy. And you can’t just run away from loving people because you’re afraid of it.”

“I’d never let Angela feel lonely if I could help it, mom.”

“You _can_ help it. You can be with her. She lives next door to you, for crying out loud! The woman sounds like she adores you. You’re really missing a trick with her if you think that pushing her away after all of this is the best decision. Even if you don’t end up together with her, don’t push her away, Fareeha. That’s worse to most than if you’d never met them altogether.”

I felt pensive, but I was soaking up all of the things my mother had told me. She was right, but I just didn’t know what to do. I heard her exhale through her nose, and that was when we realized we reached the end of the conversation at the same time.

“…It’s getting late.” She said in a solemn tone.

“Yeah.”

I heard her clear her throat, and speak warmly to me once more.

“Fareeha…please, think about this long and hard. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but you don’t want to let this be something you regret.”

“…I know.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Oh, and don’t worry about me. If any of those thugs show their faces around here, they’ll be meeting with the pointy end of my sniper rifle very quickly.”

I laughed, and as an accomplished army veteran, I knew she wasn’t joking.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” I chuckled. “Night, mom. And thanks…for everything.”

“Try calling me earlier with an emotional breakdown next time, alright?”

I laughed to myself at her faux insensitivity, as we both hung up the receiver.

As soon as the click of the receiver itself reached my ears, I felt instantly as though the apartment I sat in had never felt more silent. The weight of my cases, the weight of my emotions. Every single moment that passed felt like an age. I felt as though I was wading through the thick tar of my thoughts in bubbles of silence. I groaned loudly into my hands.

“Angela…”

I closed my eyes with a harsh sting of exhaustion. And the longer I kept them closed, the drowsier I felt.

That night, I fell asleep in my chair; and as I awoke the following morning, I certainly _felt_ as though I had fallen asleep in my chair.

“Ack!”

As opposed to my wonderful but slightly rude awakening the night before, I was this time solely just rudely awoken by the loud crick of my neck. I winced in pain, rubbing at the back of it, and stretching with a satisfying lock of my spine back in place properly. My eyes burned, searing with the sensation of sand rolling against my eyes from fatigue. I sighed wearily.

My room looked amber in the morning’s sunlight, and I shivered a little at the cold.

What time even was it…?

Eight o’clock…it didn’t look as though it had rained last night, either – which meant that there was still a chance to salvage some more evidence. In the wake of the autumnal winds that blew, however, there was an even slimmer chance to actually find anything of any worth. I prayed with all my might that Amelie Lacroix remembered more details of her potential attack.

I heaved myself out of my chair, and peered out at the bright streets through my blinds.

Think hard about what it is that you want from life, huh…my mother’s words were ringing in my ears.

I knew I had to make a decision about the future of Angela Ziegler and I, and I knew it had to be made soon – because being wrapped up in all of this gave me the very bad vibe that something bad was going to happen – and very, very soon.

I followed through with my usual morning routine; cigarette, coffee, toothbrush and a shower. I tried to spend the rest of the morning relaxing. I didn’t get a visit from Angela, which made me feel…strange. I felt as though maybe she was trying to put a little distance between us, too. I knew she knew that I felt guilty. I felt incredibly sick on top of that – and I also felt as though, for the first time in a little while – like I was forgetting something important.

“Was something supposed to be happening today…?” I asked myself in the quietness of my morning. I couldn’t remember at all if something was. I wracked my brains in a futile attempt at recalling.

Was it to do with Angela? No…Amelie? Hmm, that didn’t feel right either…

Brigitte…?

I felt a penny drop inside my mind. What had I forgotten amongst the trauma of everything…?

“Brigitte…” I mumbled to myself, hoping repeating the name of my best friend would somehow bring the memory out of me. What was I…?

I clicked my fingers!

“Reinhardt!” I declared to myself, and I rushed over to my phone. I had completely forgotten in the midst of the trauma and my emotions that Reinhardt was going to be back in town today. He was willing to talk, Emily had given me a time; and I might be able to get ever closer to the solution of Amelie and Brigitte’s problems in one fell swoop.

Midday, and four o’clock. My two times of choice.

Rejuvenated with motivation, I felt almost excited; my trauma of yesterday a thing of the past. I felt buzzed, determined to get to the bottom of these mysteries – I knew what I was going to do. Grab breakfast, grab the paper, and then get myself over to Eichenwelders.

I looked at my watch as I grabbed my jacket, swinging it over my shoulder; pulling open my door, and locking it behind me. I glanced solemnly over to Angela’s door to my right, and I wondered if she was okay. I didn’t think it was right to pay her a visit, and I didn’t want to encourage her coming along with me in case of getting hurt.

“Angela…” I mumbled to myself, and shook my head free of the doubt I felt in my heart.

Today was about focusing on the cases; everything else could come afterwards. Reinhardt was back in town, and Sombra was going to tell me information that was about to be pivotal to my case.

It was time to begin the next day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter after this will be posted a little earlier this week. Enjoy!

As the footsteps of my boots echoed back up to my ears, I began to realize that Angela wasn’t downstairs in the bar.

I stopped outside on the floorboards of our shared, upper hallway; the silence was far too deafening for my liking. I felt a little lost for words, staring down the stairs at what I knew was an empty room that was usually so full of life and warmth. I couldn’t hear any glasses clinking, or any sign of anybody setting up anything…and really, I still felt horrible about yesterday, even though I knew Angela would tell me not to blame myself. I still felt totally responsible.

I felt a burning shame rub at the back of my neck, and I exhaled through my nostrils to try and counter that sensation. I noticed Angela’s black cat fumbling around the plant pots outside of her door, rubbing its back against them; and soon wrapping itself around my legs.

I smiled, kneeling down, and giving its purring, rumbling body a stroke.

“This is ridiculous, don’t you think?” I mumbled to myself and the purring kitten before me, thinking on the events of everything. “This…”

“What’s ridiculous?”

“Ah!”

I turned around behind me in shock to see Angela stood before me; arms folded at the top of the stairs, and her soft blonde hair all messed up from the body of sleep.

She was dressed in an oversized, powder blue t-shirt; white slippers, and from what I could see, that was about it. I blushed for a multitude of reasons as I stood.

She raised her eyebrow as she looked at me, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

“…Are you off to find out more about the case?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a couple of meetings today.”

“Not inviting me?” She asked, and even though she asked with a smile, I could tell she felt slightly put out. I felt even guiltier than I already did. I rubbed the back of my neck again.

“…I…don’t want you to be put into another situation like yesterday because of me, Angela.”

I could tell she had more to say, but she opted to rub the sawdust out of her eyes some more.

“Who are you meeting?” She asked, drowsily. “You could always meet them here, if you want.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Angela. I continued to stroke the rumbling ball of fur before me.

“Sombra and Reinhardt,” I said plainly.

Angela looked surprised at my first answer, and I could tell she felt slightly odd about the situation. Even though she knew Sombra and I weren’t involved, I wondered how I would feel if she were to meet with her ex. I hoped _that_ wasn’t in the near future.

“Sombra, huh?” she asked, before nodding slowly. “It did seem like she knew about the case quite a bit. I bet she’ll be more useful to you than I am.”

“You aren’t _not_ useful to me, Angela.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t very good yesterday, though.”

Both of us were reading between the lines. I didn’t know how to act, how to feel, and neither did Angela, not really. I knew she wanted to bring up the issue of feeling uncomfortable of meeting with an ex-girlfriend alone, but didn’t want to distract me from the work. I, on the other hand, wanted to completely forget about it and move away from everything that was going on, and take her with me in my arms.

But if I couldn’t be with Angela safely, then I wanted her to be happy and safe on her own. She’d meet someone nice one day – a beautiful woman like her was a catch for anyone. But I wanted that to be me.

“I’ve got to go.” I gently said, but both of us could tell that neither of us wanted to part.

Angela unfolded her arms, and took my hands in her own wordlessly.

I knew that she wanted to say something, and hell, I did too. But nothing seemed…right. Nothing fit. It was like finding the wrong piece of a puzzle and trying to squash it down into parts that didn’t accept its shape.

I stroked her knuckles, and let go of her hands gently. I felt the horrible lump of emotion in my throat allow my voice to die inside.

“…See you later.”

Angela didn’t look up from the place where she had been holding my hands, and instead turned around to walk back into her apartment.

“Be careful,” she said, and for the second time, I could read between the lines of exactly what she meant.

-

The wind outside felt colder than ever.

I wrapped my jacket around me a little tighter, braving the harshest bitter of the winds that I’d felt this year. My eyes winced, watery in their tired reply to the cold, and as I shuffled into my empty-feeling car, I made my way to the spot where Sombra and I used to meet before we would hook up for the night. I felt like I could still smell Angela’s perfume lingering in the air, and sighed. I knew something had to be done about this situation we found ourselves in.

It felt like time passed in the blink of an eye as I drove along, lost in the myriad of my thoughts; I began to pull into the car park of a quiet, secretive bar known as The Temple.

“Not been here in a while…” I mumbled to myself.

I checked my watch; I had given myself ample time to arrive, but I knew with Sombra, the earlier the better. If she arrived early beforehand, she’d be getting bored already. I knew what she was like – and so, as I stepped out before the dingy, flaking paint exterior of The Temple, I made my way past the doorway and into the familiar seating area that I knew almost painfully well.

“Fareeha!”

The wafts of beer and fried food hitting me like a truck, I turned to find the source of the familiar voice, and I saw Sombra sitting at a booth; the same waitress that Angela and I had seen at The Polar Bear from yesterday at her side, and her hand in the air.

“Oh, I remember you.” The waitress said, looking me up and down, before looking back at Sombra. “You guys on a date?”

I laughed, and shook my head.

“You’re about two years too late for that one, sweetheart.”

“Hmph.”

The waitress turned to face her after turning her attention briefly to me, and I chuckled at how unimpressed she was.

“You gonna order something or what?” she asked briskly towards Sombra, who smiled and took her hand.

“Can I order…everything?”

“ _No._ ”

“Then I _guess_ I’ll just have a Coke.”

The waitress turned on one heel promptly, and hastily moved in towards the bar. I smirked at Sombra’s cheeky charms, who laughed as I sat down.

“Hello to you too," I smiled.

I looked around our surroundings a little as Sombra puffed away, laughing between the exhales of smoke, and I felt instantly a lot calmer from the night’s previous events.

I knew this place well. Before Angela had opened up her bar beneath my makeshift office-apartment, and indeed, before Angela Ziegler in her entirety, this was my usual haunt, both after and before work; here was where I met Sombra whenever we wanted to be alone, and where I talked often with Lena Oxton, before she moved on to live with Emily.

From the beer tap that never worked on the left of the bar, to the way you could smack the jukebox _just_ slightly beneath the record storage for extra, hidden tracks, I knew a lot about this place. The lighting of this place was as ambient as I remembered too, even in the daytime. Amber lights shone down gently against each of the tables, which were situated in private areas, cornered off from each other by dark partitions and away from the main hustle of the bar’s servers.

I wasn’t surprised that the owner – Zenyatta Tekhartha, a Buddhist monk from Nepal – had opened up a bar with such a serene atmosphere. He often talked with me over the years about his beliefs as a Buddhist, and his personal views on many subjects. I liked him, and I often told him how therapeutic I found it to look at the golden dots that he had tattooed across the dark skin of his forehead. He always laughed when I would complement that aspect of him.

“Thank you,” he would reply. “And I, in turn, am fascinated by the tattoo around your eye. The eye of Horus, is it? Spiritual protection is just as important as the physical. This much we have in common.”

As far as I knew, he had a boyfriend in the local Japanese delivery runner, Genji Shimada. He was a man who was infectious in his enthusiasm, a happy-go-lucky sort who often got large tips from many people in the housing district for his pleasant nature and fast deliveries. I didn’t know a lot else about him other than he had a brother, Hanzo Shimada, who ran his own something or other downtown. I hadn’t visited there much, but I had heard bits and pieces about his broody nature.

The two men here had a relaxed set-up, and coming here very much permeated any stress that any of the customers may have had – including myself. It reminded me very much of The Polar Bear, too.

“So?”

I was quickly brought back to the present.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s talk business.” Sombra replied, and exhaled the smoke away from my face. “Fareeha, we need to clear up something, and you gotta listen to me carefully. Okay?”

I looked at Sombra with a now keen intent.

“…Okay?”

“Amelie Lacroix is in trouble. And you know that too, don’t you? You knew that the moment you set eyes on her, I bet. You’ve always been perceptive.”

“Well, I more knew it because she placed her hands on my arm and pleaded with me to help her, but I guess we could chalk it up to my own personal perception.”

Sombra pointed the two fingers that held her cigarette between them at me briefly.

“She _is_ in trouble, Fareeha. Big trouble.”

I felt a cold expression on my face of grim worry.

 “Do you know something about this? About what kind of trouble?”

Sombra paused, assessing the right words to use.

“…You need to put the pieces together yourself, but I’ll help you where I can.”

I looked at Sombra’s worried expression, and I could see it written all over her face.

“Why can’t you ever tell me anything?”

“The walls _always_ have ears, Fareeha. Didn’t you learn that in the army?”

I looked around us, and I could see nobody even remotely within earshot of us, which surprised me at Sombra’s suggestion to not talk too broadly about the subject at hand.

Despite my line of work, I had never been involved in something where I felt as though I couldn’t talk to my informants, witnesses, or clients properly. After all, who would have the resources in my cases to do things like that? Sure, I worked amongst criminals, but nothing that would warrant anybody eavesdropping on a small-time investigator like myself.

What was I getting myself into this time?

“Sombra, I thought you wanted to tell me something in this meeting? We don’t have any time to waste, you know.”

She sighed, and the waitress came back around from the bar; holding up a tray primly on one hand, and raised an eyebrow at Sombra, who smirked in a way that I definitely recognized. The woman rolled her eyes at her familiar customer.

“ _Here_.”

“Thanks, doll.”

“Don’t call me that!”

The waitress removed the tray from her hand, and I could see her wanting to beat it over Sombra’s head. Sombra laughed to herself, shrugged as she took a sip of her drink, and the waitress turned expectantly to me; sighing with her hand on her hip.

“And you?”

I blinked in surprise at the woman before me.

“Uh…what?”

“Drink. Eat. What’ll it be?”

I shook my head, and waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing for me, thanks.”

The waitress rolled her eyes for the second time in two minutes and walked off, and I turned to face Sombra with a bewildered expression.

“You really like teasing her, don't you?"

“Sure.” Sombra replied, and laughed. “I like teasing every girl, really...but Amelie’s the woman for me.”

I laughed, and shook my head.

“She’s gonna kill you with that tray if you aren’t careful, no matter how doting you are on her.”

-

Sombra and I talked for a little longer after that. We drank, we reminisced slightly; about the times where we’d sneak off into the bathroom cubicles, half drunk and horny and desperate for physical interaction. It was strange, reminiscing in such a way with Sombra of all people, when we barely used to talk much as it was. We did sometimes – more than I remembered, apparently – but more than anything, I remembered the ways she used to touch.

Control. _That_ was what Sombra was good at. She wasn’t manipulative or inherently bad; but she had a fantastic grasp on the control of herself. Control of the situation; control of her feelings. When I would have her in my arms, wrapped in my embrace or around my waist or in my bed, her lips fervent and passionate against my own, she was always in power. She was the one who called the shots, and she knew she could end it at any moment.

I think the scariest part for Sombra was that she knew with me, it was getting to a point where she was losing that – and on top of that, I was getting restless. I wanted more from life. I needed it. And even if she didn’t know it at the time, Sombra did, too.

But the future was now. It was a year and a half since the last time Sombra and I had our lips locked with each other’s own, and we were both fully moved on. My heart belonged to Angela so thoroughly that her name may as well have been tattooed all over it, whilst Sombra’s heart most definitely belonged to Amelie Lacroix.

I could see it in the way she spoke of her as we sat there; an informal, relaxed meeting compared to the tension I expected; talking of her songs, of her voice, with a universal twinkle of adoration in her eyes.

It was sweet, and it made me smile. I enjoyed hearing the tender side of Olivia Colomar without feeling the weight of guilt for breaking her heart.

“…and so, that’s what’s been going on in my life. Can’t say I ever foresaw myself with the most popular singer in _this_ dump of a town.”

Sombra polished off her soda with a satisfied gasp, and I folded my arms.

“I’m really glad, though. That you’re so happy, that is.”

She laughed, and leant against the table.

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me, Amari.”

“As if.”

“Oh, and for what it’s worth,” Sombra began suddenly, throwing some change on the table for the drink and a large tip for the waitress, “I’d never let my eyes wander. She really is the kind of woman that you’ll only meet once in your life, I’m telling you.”

That raised another point of intrigue for me.

“Is she alright?” I asked, “Amelie, that is.”

As soon as I had asked that question, Sombra’s demeanour instantly changed. I was surprised as I watched her fold her hands against the desk, and looked around our shoulders shiftily. I looked at her curiously.

“Look, Fareeha…can we talk more in your car? I really don’t feel safe talking so… _openly_.”

I frowned. This overly paranoid attitude of Sombra’s was not like her at all.

“Alright…if that’s really what you want.”

Sombra hastily got up from her seat, and I followed suit.

I stood and turned just in time to see the smiling face of Genji Shimada, who waved eagerly at me with a bright grin; his mint green hair gentle to the eye. I returned the greeting, and patted his shoulder as we walked out hastily; and I heard the voice of Zenyatta affectionately welcomed him from behind me as he re-emerged from the wine cellar of his bar. I heard the noise of a kiss behind my shoulders, and I felt a smile of extended joy for the two young men in love.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” Sombra asked, wrapping her dark jacket tightly around her as we stepped out into the autumnal streets once more, and fumbling with the ivory buttons. The wind blew our hair all out of place with a grumble from Sombra’s lips.

“Yeah. I have to stop by somewhere after this.”

“Alright.”

Sombra and I opened the doors to my car, and – as soon as my car doors shut – she began to open the glove compartment, and pulled down the overhead sun visors with a vigorous contempt.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Be quiet.”

I did as I was told, and buttoned my lip as she rifled through the contents of my car. I knew to withhold my judgements until Sombra decided that it was acceptable to present the introduction of my voice again to the atmosphere. She sighed, relieved, before slapping the sun visor back up in to place. Her lavender eyes turned to face me, and I looked at her with great expectance.

“Well?”

“Alright. Amelie Lacroix is in deep shit, Fareeha,” she spoke, “and it’s bigger than you could ever fathom. Like, _way_ bigger. Colossal. Grandiose.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there have been nights where she’s come home, unable to remember where she’s been – and not to mention the blood that has been all over her dress when she comes back - just like she did last night.”

Sombra and I sat in disbelief as I looked aghast of what she was saying, and I could tell that visibly, she was actually shaken.

Amelie Lacroix with blood all over her dress, and no memory to account for it? Not to mention that somebody got hurt last night, from the sounds of it. I hoped it wasn’t Amelie’s blood.

But then what did that mean, if not hers?

It was rare to see Sombra in any state of anything other than smug, so I knew that seeing her in such a capacity wasn’t likely to happen twice in the same lifetime. I could barely form the words for a reply.

“What?” I stammered out pathetically.

“I know it’s gonna sound crazy, I know…” she began, almost as if to reassure herself that what she believed was the truth. “But I really think something happened at The Palace at some point. I don’t know what it is, but…something is weird. Something’s going on there.”

I leant back against the creaky spring of my seat in contemplation. All of the roads were beginning to lead back to The Palace – and that was an interesting thing to say, on Sombra’s part. I felt a sense of panic and intrigue blanket my skin as I looked at her.

To claim that she thought an incident had happened at The Palace – whatever that might have been – as opposed to saying something as simple as ‘she isn’t in her right mind’ made me believe it more.

But what could have possibly been done there?

“…Did she stay with you last night?”

“Yeah, which is why I told you not to call her. She spent the whole night crying, terrified of what she might have done. I didn’t even know what to begin to say to her. What do you even say to that?”

I bit my lip; the owner of a new bought of anxiety, and paused for thought.

“Sombra…when I met Amelie, I didn’t get the impression she was a bad person.” I said, “I’m not sure I’d say she’s capable of murder.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a sweetheart usually, you know. Gorgeous, talented, dresses as though she’s the wealthiest babe on the block. But I know Satya has access to all _kinds_ of stupid shit where she is in the ranks. So much new science bullshit out there, Fareeha. Stuff you wouldn’t even _believe_. Amelie is usually so gentle, you know?  Even if she does have a side that is quite ruthless, she’s not a murderer, Fareeha.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“…do you really think Satya Vaswani had something to do with this?”

Sombra gnawed gently at her lip in contemplation.

“Satya…pequeño pez en un gran estanque. Small fish in a large pond, you know? She’s just a part of something way bigger than her. I’ve never met the _real_ boss lady, but I _heard_ it came into new ownership about a year or something ago.”

“New ownership…?” I replied with intrigue. “I think I heard about that too, actually.”

“Yeah. Some big-time executive of somewhere or other bought the building out and refurbished it on the sly, which is what got The Palace going in the first place. I heard that she was having a lot of lady troubles, though.” Sombra said, and chuckled to herself. “Guess she was doing something that the lady on her hands didn’t like, but I only heard that from Vaswani after I managed to pool her more and more winnings - all with my slight of hand tricks at the card table. _That’s_ why I have an in, Fareeha. I’m making her look good to the real boss of this place.”

I was hardly surprised by this admission.

“The more money she produces, the more access she gets to things there.”

“Exactly.”

“Where’s the fun in playing fair, right?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Sombra repeated with a higher octave.

The pieces of the puzzle were gradually beginning to unfold to make an even bigger picture. What was really going on beneath the surface?

I began to realize something else, alongside this revelation of Sombra’s, which was that Amelie Lacroix – in her desperation – even placed her relationship on the line to get to the bottom of this mystery of hers. She never wanted me to look into Sombra’s relationship with others.

She wanted me to be guaranteed to go to The Palace and stay there. Maybe she knew I’d work that out. This was still just a theory – but it was one I was willing to put a lot of stock into.

“Fareeha, for what it’s worth, I think we should try for The Palace tonight. We need to get inside to get the real scoop. I don’t think that alleyway Amelie talked about is gonna get either of you anywhere.”

Sombra’s declaration brought me back to earth with a bump.

“What?” I asked abruptly. “ _Tonight_? Why tonight?”

“Because the security there in the daytime outside? You’d never get in now thanks to your reckless attitude, not without my help. We’d need to enter from the basement.”

I frowned. I couldn’t deny that Sombra was probably right. I groaned, and rest my head against the steering wheel.

“God dammit…so we have to break and enter?”

“We do. Lucky for you, you have me. Amelie’s not bad at that kind of thing either, you know.”

“Please don’t do anything else illegal if you can help it, Sombra.”

Sombra laughed, and leant in slightly towards me.

“Aww, probrecita. Come on. Don’t be like that. We’ve got a mystery to solve.” She said, and much like Angela did yesterday, pulled out one of the hard-boiled travel sweets from the tin next to my glove compartment. “Which is why I’m tagging along with you today. I wanna make sure you at least get back safe after whatever interview you have to do. Man, these sweets are good!”

“You don’t need to tag along, Sombra! I have to go interview… _someone_ about Brigitte!”

“Brigitte? Oh, right…” she replied, disinterested. “Well, that’s fine. I can wait outside.”

I bit at my lip. Time was wasting away with every moment, and I already knew that the alleyway wasn’t going to hold anything that I needed now too. There were storm clouds meshing with one another above us, and I knew time was short as it was. It didn’t look like it was going to rain for a little while yet, though – I had to make every moment of time count. I was glad that Sombra would at least go home and get ready for the excursion.

“…Alright, alright. You can come along, but wait in the car.”

“Whatever’s best,” she replied nonchalantly, but I could tell that she wasn’t planning to follow that guideline.

I checked the time on my watch – and after one rev up of the engine, it was time to go and finally find out what it was Reinhardt wanted to say.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is a shorter chapter, I decided to put it up early...a warning of blood and graphic description coming up.

This meeting had been a long time coming.

Sombra and I pulled up outside of Eichenwelders about ten minutes after leaving the spot we’d made our own. It was hardly a long drive there, but every second that ticked away felt like a lifetime. I could tell that both of us were pensive, eager to get in there and find out what was going on back at the casino, but with Reinhardt, he might give me the breakthrough that not only Ingrid, but me too, needed to find out.

I prayed he could give us something useful, _anything_. I almost wanted to chide him for not telling me whatever it was sooner, but I knew that I understood trauma quite well.

The tyres of the car crunched against the gravel; coming to a slow stop against the tiny rocks. I swung open the door as soon as the car stopped, and I eagerly hopped out of my car. Sombra began to get out of the car, a look on her face that entirely suggested she remembered what I had said to her, and refused to look at me.

“Sombra.”

“…Si?”

“Get back in the car.”

She stomped her foot against the gravel indignantly.

“Come ooon, already! Let me come with you! I’m not gonna say anything.”

“Stop being nosy and get back in the car!”

“Tch!” She grumbled.

The outside of Eichenwelders was nothing as grandiose as the exterior of the local hotspot casino of this town – the walls were bone white, and the sign a humble attempt at advertising through bright blues and reds. I flapped my hands at my sides as we approached the door, shaking out the anxiety I felt from reuniting with not just Brigitte’s boss, but also a man that I had known since childhood.

I sighed, resignedly, anxious to get inside Eichenwelders, with the hasty crunch of gravel once more reaching my ears from both Sombra and I’s footsteps.

“Fine, whatever, come along, but if you say _anything_ , I -”

“Wait.”

We both stopped in our tracks as we noticed something at the same time.

The door – it was slightly ajar.

The shutters were down.

I looked at Sombra, who looked at me in the same calibre of suspicious confusion.

“…What the hell?” Sombra asked in disbelief. “The door of a shop being ajar I can at least kind of understand, but why are the shutters down?”

I felt a pool of anxiety swirling around my body. I checked my watch – it was definitely the right time. There’s no way a man as business conscious as Reinhardt would be late, and especially not for something like this.

“Reinhardt…he was supposed to get back into town last night, and open up work again today.”

“Do you think he came here last night and just forgot to lock up, or…?”

I shook my head. I knew what I had to do.

I shuffled my jacket back slightly, and pulled my pistol out of my holster.

It was rare that I ever had to do that – even Sombra looked surprised – but after last night with the thugs in the bar, I wasn’t about to take any chances. Sombra took the cue from me and lifted a flap up on the back of her boot, and pulled out a switchblade. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, a girl’s gotta have the latest defences, Fareeha.”

In her line of work, I didn’t blame her any more than she blamed me. I thanked God that, even with a consuming guilt, I _had_ opted to not bring Angela along with me today, or I’d be probably throwing up with nerves.

“God, I hope nothing’s happened…”

I pushed the slightly open door just so; and inside was as dingy as I’d expected with the shutters down. Brochures advertising Eichenwelders lay strewn across the entrance floor, as though the autumn wind had blown them off of a surface nearby; and the blare of a television at the reception desk was loud and crude, crackling through a speaker as though it had been faulty for a long time. I felt growing concern at noticing that nobody was at the desk itself.

I opened the door carefully; fully, this time; and entered.

I covered my mouth with my hand, and I restrained having to gag. A distinguishable, coppery smell lingered in the air as Sombra looked at me curiously from outside.

“What…?”

“Blood,” I said, into the muffled confines of my hand that covered my face. “It’s blood.”

Sombra was a little further behind me, and as she began to walk up closer, she could smell it too.

“Eugh…I hate that smell.”

I agreed entirely, but that worried me to the point I felt almost as though my heart was going to fall out of my mouth. If there was enough blood to make this kind of pungent stench, what the hell was going on down the hall?

I was positive now – there could be no mistake. There must be something in here.

“What the hell has happened, Reinhardt…?”

The further we moved down the dark hallway of Eichenwelders, the closer the glaringly large sign of ‘Docking Bay’ became more apparent. I knew that we were walking into a murder hole, and I hated that sensation.

I hated the creeping, looming sensation of fear. I readied my gun, and looked to Sombra behind me.

“Ready?” I whispered, shakily. _Please be nothing_ , I prayed.

She nodded.

I steadied myself; flickering my eyelids, and even running the tip of my finger over my tattoo in an attempt at good fortune; and with one, loud bang, I kicked the door open – gun first, and eyes scanning in panic.  

“Hold it!” I yelled, only to be greeted with an echo back of my voice.

“Show yourselves!” Sombra declared boldly, before the two of us gasped at the sight before us.

“ _No_!” I cried.

Before us on the floor lay the dead body of Reinhardt Wilhelm; bleeding from the head, and stomach.   
  
The gory scene before us made Sombra even have to turn away, and I stared on in horror at the sight that unfolded.

His insides were resting on the outside; laying limp and cold in old blood, and against the shell of what once housed his soul. His jaw was slack, his eyes were pale; his limbs looked stiff as a board. I felt the despair sink into my bones, as I fell to my knees in a puddle of his blood, desperately leaning over him, attempting in a futile hope that maybe, even with his shredded appearance, there might be some kind of pulse still left in there.

My anxiety was right, and my hope was wrong. He was murdered.

“Reinhardt…!” I choked out in a sob. “What happened to you?!”

Sombra, behind me, was as solemn as I felt inside.

I fought back the tears; the tears over his death, over Brigitte’s potentially lost lead, and the sight of senseless violence.

Although Sombra spoke, I could hear that she could barely bring herself to face the direction I was facing.

“We should look around, just in case...” she began, shakily. “Ma...maybe he left something, if he was a paranoid kind of guy.”

I felt paralyzed in grief, but I nodded in agreement; the teardrops rolling off of my nose. This was the man that used to babysit me as a child – who my mother now used to go out for coffee with, and do the weekly shopping with. Some days, when I would come downstairs, he’d be there with her, laughing jovially. I felt great sorrow at his passing, and even moreso that my knees were soaked by his blood.

Sombra wordlessly placed a hand on my shoulder.

“…Come on.”

She squeezed my shoulder, and turned around to walk out quickly.

I understood why she couldn’t stay in the same room. I knew why. I was staring at the very _reason_ why. But I couldn’t leave him yet.

I placed his cold hand in my own; sickened by the blue and purple hues that were beginning to slowly take over his pallid skin.

“Reinhardt…”

I stood up slowly; the splash of Reinhardt’s blood beneath my feet, and the soak of the awful, copper liquid staining my clothes. I walked out of the room – making as many mental notes as I could bear about the state of Reinhardt before me – and closed the door behind me.

Sombra had been rifling around the reception desk – the only real point of interest besides the docking bay, which as far as I could see, had absolutely no papers or anything in sight.

She gasped, and my attention was immediately arrested towards her.

“Did you…?”

“A note!” She cried in surprise, and handed me it quickly. “And it’s addressed to you…look!”

I hurried over to her, my tears suddenly a thing of the past; taking the note in my hands.

“This is Reinhardt Wilhelm. If you find this note, please deliver it to Fareeha Amari’s Investigations Office, above the bar known as Nike’s Chariot in Seattle.

To the person this is addressed to - I’m keeping this here at my desk because I know you’re thorough, and I know you like to sniff out what you can _when_ you can about a case. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you sooner. I know you’ve been agonizing over this case, just like Torbjorn and Ingrid. I know that Brigitte was your best friend, and I’m sorry. I swore to protect the ones I love, and I failed. I’m so sorry.

At first, after the incident, I left town to clear my head. I wanted to get a good view of the roses out in the west. I wanted to be in my right mind not just to talk to you in person, but also to make sure that I had the strength to write you this note. In my life, Fareeha, I’ve suffered a lot of loss. I know you understand my position. The loss of Brigitte as my goddaughter was…shocking. Even though she isn’t lost to us fully, she is right now, and the fact she was attacked at all makes me feel deeply uneasy.

I don’t know the name of who attacked her. I don’t get out very much these days, so I only see the people that come to Eichenwelders, or I see people at the store near my house. But I knew this…person, from somewhere. I don’t know where, but they did say something to me. I recognized their voice from _something_. I heard them, skulking around, before they must have attacked Brigitte.

I only caught a glimpse of them before they’d run out the back door. I didn’t even think to chase them…stupid kids happen here all the time, and I already thought she’d made it back home. I didn’t know until the attack had happened that she was planning to stop by somewhere extra to get groceries for the kids.”

I felt my blood running cold again, and my eyes gain a cold sheen from how I hadn’t blinked whilst reading Reinhardt’s note. I could feel that Sombra was writhing inside.

She knew what was coming. So did I.

_Amelie_. Her voice would be the most recognizable one in all of Seattle, but especially this town.

“Their voice…they were so full of hatred, and the cold tone that came from their lips in such a harsh whisper…I’ll never forget it. I didn’t realize it until almost two days after. It was almost like…almost like they weren’t there, or that they didn’t know what they were saying. It was the strangest thing…I don’t know how to describe it.”

I paused, and continued scanning the letter at a rapid pace.

“But be careful, Fareeha. Whoever they are, they’re dangerous. They took down Brigitte so easily, like a knife through butter, and you know how well she’s capable of taking care of herself. Take care, and give your mother my regards. If you’re reading this note then something bad must have happened, but don’t cry for me. Just solve this case and make sure Brigitte is okay.

Take care of them all, Fareeha, and I wish you all the best for your life. Give Torbjorn and Ingrid my best wishes…and tell them that I love them all.

My love always,

Reinhardt”

A blanket of silence befell Sombra and I.

“Fareeha…”

I slammed my fist down on the reception desk, and Sombra flinched wordlessly. I grit my teeth in an unshakeable anger.

“What the hell is going on?!” I seethed.

“I’m telling you, dude,” Sombra began, and I could hear that she was uncharacteristically emotional by the note left. “I swear, it can’t be Amelie. It just can’t be!”

I clenched my jaw so hard that I felt my teeth aching, and I banged my fist against the desk again. I couldn’t believe how frustrated I was; how worried and confused. I could barely process anything, and I felt just as horrible as I must have looked, with blood covering my clothes.

Sombra placed a hand on my shoulder in an attempt at reassurance. I scowled at a target that wasn’t there.

“Tomorrow night,” she said. “Tomorrow, at around 2 or 3, let’s break into The Palace and get our answers once and for all. Let’s do it. Let’s spend tonight getting our bearings, sorting stuff out…"

She cleared her throat as my voice died in mine, and she said,

"...and I’ll bring Amelie with us, too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update will come a little earlier this week, and it might just be of the NSFW variety...but for now, hope you enjoy the drama of this one!

I drove Sombra back to her place after the day’s events, despite her insistence on driving; and I made my way home in a vacant haze of melancholy.

All I wanted to do was go to bed and stay there. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel anything. I felt like complete garbage masquerading around as a person.

How many times over the last two days alone had I failed?

Failed to protect Angela. Failed to look at The Palace for what it was. Failed to protect Reinhardt, and who knew at what else. I felt out of my depth all over again, except this time, I was being dragged down through murky water by chains, and tied to the seabed with my regrets.

We were silent on the drive back to Sombra’s place, and silent when we said goodbye. Sombra reinforced that we would infiltrate The Palace tonight, at two or three, and that she’d make sure Amelie stayed with us the whole time. I felt like an asshole for thinking in this way, but I wished that I could have just turned Amelie Lacroix over to the police. If she _was_ the one who attacked Reinhardt – and it very much sounded like it was – then that meant danger for everyone that had links to The Palace. It could have even meant danger for me and Angela.

I grit my teeth.

“Be careful,” Sombra said, leaning into the car before she closed the door.

I didn’t agree or disagree, and Sombra knew not to push the envelope with me. She closed the door, and I watched to make sure she made it inside safely.

I saw the apartment light of hers flicker on, and the embrace of two lovers inside; the silhouette of their curtain speaking the words I wanted to say to Angela. I felt even worse as I pulled away.

It didn’t take very long to arrive back at my place. Between the neon hues and the glittering carbuncles of the city street lights, I made it home in one piece. I gripped the steering wheel; my fingertips stained with blood alongside my trousers, and somehow a little on my blouse, probably from where I had wiped my hands or leant over Reinhardt.

“Ugh…” I groaned.

I turned to face the exterior of the bright, bustling bar that I knew so intimately; shimmering its lights through the glint of my own car window. I stepped out into the bitterly cold evening air of the streets; winter’s blanket of navy closing in on the sky, and the stars beginning to twinkle along its blue.

I walked along the path across the sidewalk, my boots clicking against the dull pavement beneath my feet; when I peered in through the frosted glass of the bar’s door.

“What the…?”

I felt bewildered as I peered in through the door like a street urchin at the sight that was unfolding, obscured, before me; and as I opened the door, I saw a tall, redheaded woman with her hand on Angela’s face over the counter, leaning down and smirking at her.

“Get off me,” Angela chided, and slapped her hand away. “Why are you even here? Making these half-assed, half-hour visits every other month. Didn’t you get the message that I’m not interested when I left you?”

“Don’t be like that, angel. I’ve been missing your touch. I’m willing to take you back, you know.”

“How nice of you. Now shut up and get out of my bar, please.”

The woman chuckled throatily. “You should make me, pet.”

Angela’s unimpressed expression turned towards the doorway, and her eyes widened in shock and horror at the sight of my dishevelled – and now terribly confused – appearance.  

“Fareeha!” Angela exclaimed, and rushed out from behind the bar; throwing the foldable barrier up in the air, and ignoring the loud thud that followed. “What on earth happened?!”

The redhead who was attempting to charm Angela turned to face me, a look of contempt across two pools of different, glinting colours beneath the bar’s lighting, and I watched as they widened in disbelief as well.

She scanned me up and down, and I did the same for her. I already knew we weren’t going to get along.

“Are you alright?!” Angela said worriedly, rushing over to me; her voice a high, arrested concern.

Most of the bar had turned to look at me in a mortifying, blinking coagulation of people, and I couldn’t understand why at first – before I remembered that I was soaked in _blood_.

“Oh…” I began, finally snapping a little out of my daze. I shook my head, and turned to face Angela properly. “Right. Rough day.”

“ _Rough day_!” Angela repeated in dismay, and I felt the sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. “Oh my God, Fareeha, what _happened_? Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”

Seeing her face was like a light in my darkness, and feeling her hands touching my own face was like heaven. She kept scanning my appearance frantically, pawing at my face as she spoke.

I placed a hand on Angela’s own, cupping my face, and I shook my head; my eyes flickering upwards to the redhead before me.

For just a moment, it looked as though she wanted to wring my neck. I felt my love for Angela ignite even further.

“I’m fine.” I replied gently, even if I was lying; warmly removing Angela’s hands from my face as I looked warily at the woman before us. “Who’s this?”

Angela blinked for a moment, the redheaded woman behind us both a thing of the past in her mind, and she sighed wearily, rolling her eyes.

“Oh…ugh. It’s better i-”

“I’m Moira O’Deorain,” the redhead interrupted as she stood up, and extended her slender hand towards me. She was as tall as she was handsome, and powerful in both stature and outfit. It was plain to see that this was a woman that oozed both wealth and power, and more than likely had no problem getting _anybody_ she wanted. I was surprised to hear the following part of the sentence even further because of this. “I’m Angela’s partner. Pleased to meet you.”

I scoffed at her as I turned to Angela, who was rolling her eyes. Moira’s eyes lit up with delight.

“ _Partner?_ ” I asked. I didn’t believe her statement, but it did raise a sense of alarm to know somebody like this was interested in the woman I adored.

“No, she _isn’t_.” Angela reaffirmed angrily, and looked at me with her ocean eyes that I knew so well. “She’s my _former_ partner. God, it must have been at least a year ago now. What do you want?”

Moira chuckled before me, and retracted her ignored hand; and slid over Angela’s question.

“I see Angela has been keeping good company in my absence. Are you this polite to all of your customers, Fareeha? Scoffing in the face of the bar owner’s lover?”

“God, Moira, do you ever stop talking? And you aren’t my lover.”

Angela scowled, and Moira chuckled to herself. I looked at her; an unimpressed look on my face.

“Are you a paying customer?” I asked bluntly.

She looked equally as surprised by my question, but not so much at my tone.

“I am at Angela’s establishment. Isn’t that enough to warrant some respect?”

“No.”

Moira laughed, tilting her head back, and sipping at the drink that Angela had made for her.

“Well, not that it matters.” She began, and I knew that her infuriatingly smug tone was going to bug me for the rest of time. “I came here to see Angela, not you.”

“I live here too, buddy.”

This time, she scoffed and looked me up and down. We were roughly around the same height, but I was definitely stronger in build; and despite that, I felt slightly inadequate and exhausted, donned in my slacks covered in blood.

“Whatever you say,” she remarked dismissively. “You’d do well to remember who you’re talking to, though. I’m sure your business wouldn’t stand a chance if rumours were to… _get around_ of your bad etiquette.”

“Oh, yeah? And just who the hell am I talking to? From name alone, I’ve never heard of you.”

Moira’s glinting eyes darkened – but with a sense of jubilation I couldn’t quite place.

I watched as her eyes shifted into a devious cunning; a superiority and a smugness in her handsome expression like no other, and, as she leant back against the countertop, with Angela looking up at her in a mixture of regret, shame and nostalgia, she ran a hand through her burning red hair, and said,

“I’m the owner of The Palace. Have you ever heard of it?”

I felt as though time had completely come to a grinding halt.

Moira O’Deorain – Angela’s former partner – the _owner_ of The Palace?

Things began to ring in my ears.

_“Satya Vaswani – she’s just a small fish in a big pond.”_

_“Oui, but I’ve only met the real boss a couple of times that I can remember.”_

_“I understand. Sometimes ex partners can be even more difficult than we ever think they’re going to be.”_

_“She bought the place out and refurbished it. Heard she was having lady troubles.”_

“The Palace…?!” I repeated back to the redhead before me in an unrestrained awe.

“Oh, so you _have_ heard of it, then?” Moira asked, and laughed at the end of her sentence. “Here’s me thinking that you didn’t get out much.”

Angela looked at me in utter bewilderment. Her expression read as a dismayed, almost tearful expression, and I knew exactly why she looked at me in such a way – because I was looking at her, too – but this time, I was looking at her as though she had hurt me.

“Yes.” I replied stiffly, trying to fight back the myriad of new thoughts that had blossomed in my mind.

“Well,” Moira began, standing up and kissing a paralyzed Angela on the cheek as she slipped on her jacket. She turned to face me. “Don’t bother appearing there, will you? You aren’t welcome in my establishment, I’m sorry to say. You might find yourself met with a rather…sticky situation if you did.”

I grit my teeth, curled up my fists into balls at my sides, and the words bubbled up out of my mouth before I could reel them back in.

I could handle Moira’s smug smile. I could handle her razor-sharp words, and the way I knew she already looked down on me. But what I couldn’t handle - today, at least - was the way that after she slipped on her jacket, she _shoved_ past me to get to the door.

 _That_ was the catalyst for losing my temper.

 “You’re full of shit!” I shouted, “And so is your backwards, money-grubbing establishment!”

Moira, unphased by my shouting, laughed again. This time, I knew it was at me.

“Why don’t you have a drink and simmer down?” she patronized, and without looking around once, she opened the door and left.

The entire bar fell silent with the ring of the bell that came from opening the door, and an even heavier one fell deeper as the door slammed shut.

I stood frozen in place. The jukebox was playing its usual scratchy record in the back; the dulcet tones of singers from years past ringing in my ears. After a few moments, I turned myself to face Angela; who was still looking at me with an expression I couldn’t recognize.

“Fareeha…” she began, and I felt the knife slice through my heart. I needed some air; I needed to go outside for just a moment. I turned away from her, waving a dismissive hand, and pulled open the door as I hurried out, long, broad steps following in my wake.

“I need a minute.”

“Wait, Fareeha!”

I stormed out of the bar; the bell ringing violently above me as I ripped open the door. Moira was long gone – she had probably gotten a driver waiting outside – and I felt like my head was about to burst.

I heard the familiar bell again. I knew Angela was following me; but I couldn’t stop myself from walking out into the bitter, wintry winds of the night-time outside. The streets were relatively empty, and I began to hear the familiar rumble of storm clouds above.

The rain’s droplets began to splash on my shoulders, and then off of the hot sting of my cheeks as I tilted my head towards the sky. To Angela, I knew it had seemed like I had stormed off; to me, I needed to get out of an enclosed space.

“Fareeha!” she repeated, following after me. “Wait! Just wait a second!”

“I need a minute! Just – just talk to me about it later, whatever it is!”

“You know exactly what I want to talk about!”

“You know what? I really don’t!” I replied, turning around, and my eyes began to sting. “I’m so…I feel so _trapped_ , Angela! I feel trapped, hideously overwhelmed, and I don’t know which way is up! And to find out that…that you have this wealthy, powerful ex-partner?! That you just don’t happen to know owns the very place we’ve been looking into?!”

“Fareeha, you know full well if I’d known -”

“That you’d of what!” I interrupted, the water splashing off of our skin. Angela looked at me with a hurt expression at my interruption. I closed my eyes in exasperation and guilt. “I don’t – I’m sorry, Angela, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, and hell, maybe you didn’t know –”

“I _didn’t_ know!”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt because of me!”

My voice cracked at the end of my sentence. Angela’s eyes faltered.

The rain began to pour fully the moment my sentence was finished, splattering along the ground and on our clothes. My blouse began to turn pink from the dilution of the blood, and Angela’s fluffy blonde hair beginning to lose its bounce from the water.

“What?” she asked, quietly.

“I don’t…I can’t let you get hurt, Angela, not because of me!” I began, and I knew I was about to cry, no matter how hard I tried to fight it back. I became animated as I spoke; my arms spreading in resignation to my feelings. “Moira, Satya, all of it! I shouldn’t have gotten you mixed up in this, I should just…just do what I have to do here, and _leave_ , and -”

“I _love_ you, Fareeha Amari!”

The words reverberated off of my eardrums in a daze. I blinked through the rain that was falling atop of our heads, as Angela and I stood frozen in our positions.

“What?”

“I love you!” She repeated over the loud drum of the rain, and I could hear in her voice she was emotional. “God, you’re so…you’re so damn _obtuse_ sometimes! You think that I’m unable to decide for myself?! Unable to decide whether I want to be in these situations with you?”

“No! Why does everyone think that?!”

“Because that’s how you make it sound! God, Fareeha, I love you so much, and you constantly show me how much you love me too! Constantly! Every single time we look at each other!”

I felt the tears falling against my cheeks, and if I hadn’t been so emotionally overwhelmed, I would have laughed. Hell, if I had heard this from anyone, I wouldn’t have believed them or their melodrama.

But this was real, and this was happening. Angela Ziegler was stood before me, telling me that she was in love with me.

“How can you _stand_ there,” she began, animated herself in disbelief and frustration, “and even think for one _second_ that I would just le-!”

I interrupted Angela Ziegler by walking over to her, pulling her into my arms, and without a moment’s hesitation, kissing her with as much love as I could manage in one breath.

It took a moment for us both to realize what was happening, but when we did, our lips moved together just as perfectly as all of the times I had imagined.

I kissed her.

I was finally, finally giving in. All of the anxiety and the pain and the self-inflicted decisions I had made were washed away with the rain; and as we stood, slightly drenched from the evening downpour, I kissed her with all of the love I had in me to give.

Our lips slipped together hungrily, passionately, lustfully in the drip of the rain; my arms wrapping themselves around her full, beautiful frame, and feeling her warm hands resting on my neck, just like we’d been kissing forever. I could feel in every kiss that we were both so emotional; so intensely in love without even saying a single word. I held her as though she was the most precious jewel in the world. I felt as though I was losing my mind in the best way possible.

The warmth of her nose pressed against my cold cheek, and my lips kissed at her like it was the last time we were ever going to kiss, the last time I’d ever hold her in my arms. I didn’t want to break apart, not even for a second, and Angela’s warm breath panted against my cold lips in between our kisses. I knew I was doing the same.

“Finally!” someone from the doorway of the bar cheered, and that was exactly what Angela and I needed to break away with a satisfying noise.

“Took you long enough!”

“Come on, you lovebirds, we want another drink!”

We turned to look at the doorway of familiar customers, laughing and cheering affectionately in the doorway; and I turned back to Angela, who; amidst a glowing blush on her face, was smiling right at me; and I felt the sting of happiness prod at the back of my eyes.

She stroked my cheek, just like she always did; and I kissed at the wet slip of her forehead, laughing at how soaked we both were from the rain – and also how damn cold it was. I hadn’t even noticed.

“I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” she asked, and she had a smile on her face of contentedness that I’d never been privileged enough to see.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, with an uncontrollable smile of my own. “Yeah. We do.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter warning!

Angela had decided to close up the bar early that night, and I had never been more grateful for her decision.

Whilst she cleared out the bar of patrons – particularly the ones who had seen us finally kiss, after months of the tension between us melting away at the lips – I decided to take the initiative of having a shower. I

grabbed Angela a spare pair of clothes before I ran downstairs, passing them to her over the bar.

“Thank you,” she said, with a white, dazzling grin coming from behind her full lips. Her ocean eyes twinkled at me beneath the lights, and I felt my heart skipping a beat.

I could hardly believe today was the same day as my earlier trauma.

“…You’re welcome.” I replied coyly, and smirked at her.

I felt electric. I felt unstoppable. I felt as though I had never been happier to be alive. All of my nerves stood on edge, all of my feelings haywire as I showered; my love for Angela, the ways that I desperately wanted her, all the things we had to talk about. My brain felt as though it were about to burst. I’d never showered so quickly in my life.

As I rushed out of my apartment, Angela’s black cat, Cady, was curling around my legs in minutes.

“Oh!”

It meowed at me affectionately as it rubbed against my trousers, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I knelt down to stroke her; tickling under her chin to a soft rumble that rest against my fingertip.

“You really are a troublemaker...”

“Isn’t she just! But that’s not always a bad thing, is it?”

“Ah!”

I looked up to the beautiful visage of the woman I loved, and she grinned at me as she folded her arms. She leant against the doorframe of the stairway; her blonde hair still slightly damp from the rain earlier. I stood slowly, a renewed sensation of life coming over me, as well as the grin I found unable to wipe off of my face.

“…Hey.”

Angela smiled, and walked closer, coming into my arms.

I held her tight in my embrace as she rest her hands on my shoulders, and looked up into my eyes. Her hand followed its habit that I loved so much of resting against my cheek; stroking the bottom of my tattoo with the tip of her thumb just so. Her voice sounded more beautiful than ever.

“Good evening.”

“May I join you this evening, Miss Ziegler?”

Angela giggled against my collarbone, and wrapped her arms around my neck as I held her.

“...I’d love nothing more.”

Angela and I broke away from our embrace to holding hands as she opened the door to her apartment, and I felt instantly enraptured by just being inside it with the woman that I loved so dearly.

Angela walked in first, and I followed, along with her little cat hot on our heels. I waited for the troublemaking presence of Cady to enter, before closing the door behind me; and looking around the apartment, I felt almost as though I was falling in love all over again.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” Angela said, and both of us were hesitant to let go of each other’s hands. “I’m just going to freshen up a little.”

I smiled, delirious in my feelings for her.

“Take your time.”

“Have fun with Cady. Settle in, alright? Oh, and could you light the fire as well for me, please?”

“With pleasure, sweetheart.”

Angela grinned brightly as she disappeared with haste down a hallway to her bedroom, and I decided to make myself at home.

“Damn, Angela…what a fine-looking place.”

The apartment was every bit as beautiful as I’d imagined. The walls were a cream-coloured wallpaper, along with golden-painted frames, ornaments, and a large fireplace boasting a broad mantelpiece, holding photographs of people that I knew were her parents, friends, and even one of her and I, two weeks after the opening of the bar.

The rug beneath my feet was a plush white, along with the comfortable looking sofas she had, clad in a muted light brown; accompanied by summer yellow cushions. The entire apartment smelled just as great as Angela always did. I couldn’t help but feel like I was drowning in her.

I knelt down against the floorboards beneath the plush rug, and with a clang of metal, I managed to stoke the fire up. The apartment felt warm, cozy; just as inviting as being in Angela’s presence always was. I leant against the windowsill, looking out at the bright lights of the city amidst the evening’s sombre navy sky, dotted like stars along the horizon and burning brightly in their own shells. I listened for the sound of the cars outside, tangling themselves with each other along the roads on their way to wherever they were going. I rest my head against my elbow as I heard her return.

“Sorry about that.”

I turned around to face the source of the voice that came from Angela, and I felt the blush of my face return to my cheeks.

“Oh, uh…that’s fine.”

Angela smiled, and I could see from her rose-tinted cheeks that she felt just as bashful as I did.

We were like teenagers who were just coming to terms with having a crush; let alone two women in their thirties who knew that we felt the same. But Angela looked more beautiful than ever; wearing a white cardigan, a pair of comfortable looking, grey pants, and her blonde hair was as fluffy as it ever was.

“…Do you like my home?”

“I love anywhere with you.”

It felt good to finally be able to embrace my feelings. No matter what the consequences were; this was the path I had chosen. This was the path we had chosen, together. Things couldn’t have continued as they were…and feeling Angela’s lips pressed to mine was even better than I’d expected.

“Fareeha…”

Angela placed her hands on my shoulders, and before the fireplace, I slowly pulled her into another kiss.

“Mm…”

Our lips fit together perfectly. 

“You taste as good as you look, liebling.”

I chuckled against her lips. The heady rush of love and lust mixed into one cocktail felt as though it had been poured over my head with both of the kisses from tonight.

“This really is…”

I could hardly believe it was happening. I could hardly believe the following question that came from the lips I was already becoming so well acquainted with.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered. "Please..."

I wasn’t about to ask twice.

I’d never experienced something as sensual as what Angela and I did.

At first, we kissed before the roaring fire of her apartment. I let my hands slide down her back, and rest them on her hips. We kissed, slowly and intimately; every brush of our lips a new discovery of the other. Every flicker of a breath, every brush of the tip of her nose. Her perfume slipped against my skin, and I felt myself getting hungrier against her lips for more. More of her.

“Angela…” I breathed, and she pressed herself against me harder.

Her hands wrapped themselves up in my hair, tussling it gently; and eventually, between our laboured kissing, we fell back against her comfortable sofa with a mutual laugh.

“I love you,” Angela whispered, and I felt my head spinning all over again. How long _had_ I been craving to hear that from her lips?

“I love you, too...” I replied. “I've always loved you, Angela. So much more than you know.”

Angela smiled, and I realized that in this moment; in the moment of holding her gently, that it was the first time she’d heard me say the words.

_I love you._

My worries melted away from me, and I stroked her face gently.

“Fareeha…” she began, leaning forward against me, and kissing my lips ever so slightly hungrier for more. “We…we’ve a lot to talk about, I…”

“Shh…” I whispered against her lips, and pulled her against me. “Just…kiss me, Angela.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach become a colourful whirlwind of their wings at the slight embarrassment I felt. I couldn’t resist the words that were coming from my lips, and as I heard Angela’s breath falter against mine, I felt my lips ache for more of her. It was as though she hadn’t been expecting such an honest, direct reply to such an action; and I wanted to keep giving her all of me that I could.

She lay down against the sofa, and I shuffled on top of her shyly. I was pleasantly greeted with her hands bunching up in my hair.

Angela and I kissed. _Endlessly_. Passionately. In between my legs was aching, and I knew she was feeling the same, which made my head spin off of my shoulders even further. We’d been waiting for this for so long that I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, now that the metaphorical cat was well and truly out of the bag about our feelings. I knew what I wanted to happen – but did she?

I felt her thighs clench at my hips, my chest pressed against hers; the open pop of my changed shirt’s collar allowing for our collarbones to occasionally touch when I dipped in for more of a kiss, and I could feel how hot her face was against mine, even without the aid of the fire across the room.

But that was all we did, at first. We just kissed, and kept kissing, the momentum switching quickly from making out fervently to soft, tender kisses, and Angela’s smile kept catching me off guard with even more of the butterflies that I hadn’t invited.

“You’re an excellent kisser.”

“Thank you,” Angela replied, and chuckled against my neck. “I feel so shy. What are you doing to me, hm?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how cute she was being; before she deliberately rolled us off of the sofa with a thud on her soft carpet.

“Whoa!”

“Hahaha!”

I clung to her in my arms as she held onto me, a barrel of laughter against my chest; and sat on top of me, her thighs clenching my hips further still, and her hands holding against the top of my stomach gently. The fire flickered at our sides, glinting in the ocean of her eyes; and I felt my heart melting as I looked up at her face.

“Angela…” I began, with a smile. “I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

She beamed at me – and amidst the crackle of the flames burning against the log, she leant down to kiss me once more.

From that moment on, I began to gently peel away at the layers of her clothes. Neither one of us were able to resist, and she began to do the same for me. Slipping off her sweater, her vest beneath; my hands gently slipped underneath the hem of her bra, resting against her perfect breasts, and god, hearing her gasp at my touch made me almost lose my mind right then and there.

But I felt her. I touched her; and the more she undressed me, the more heated things were becoming.

“More…” she breathed against my neck, her hair already slightly messy from where my hands had ran through. “Give me all of you, Fareeha. Give me what I’ve been waiting for.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Angela’s naked body pressed against the hard frame of my own; our lips making out passionately before the flicker of the flames, and clinging to me with her hands buried against my hair. My tongue grazed at the touch of her bottom lip, desperate, hungry for her, and I felt her grinding as she sat in my lap for more. I could feel the rub of her against my midriff; just how lustful she was for this as much as me.

I rolled her onto her back; kissing down her beautiful body, one kiss at a time. Her hands rest gently on my head as I kissed against her breasts, touched her hips, clung to them even; looking up at her blushing face with every motion downwards.

My hands were resting against her inner thighs by the time I’d finished kissing all the parts of her that I wanted to.

“Can I -”

“Please, Fareeha -”

Both of us paused, smiling at each other; and, as I pulled myself back up on top of Angela, I slipped two fingers inside of her with ease, and I made love to her as passionately as I could.

“Ah!”

“God, Angela-!”

Angela clung to my back; her nails digging into my shoulder blades slightly, and her thick thighs clenching at my hips ever still as we made love.

I wanted to make her feel so _good_ , make her feel as good as possible underneath my touch.

Her clit felt big against my fingertips; slippery with lust, and I found myself pulling out my fingers every now and then just to rub over its pink hood; pressing as soft or hard as she wanted before slipping back inside her. Just listening to the panting and the pleading and the soft grunts that came from her lips…it feels like an understatement to say I felt like I was going to cum even without her touching me.

“More…!” Angela pleaded, and I felt myself getting even more heated with the way I was fucking her.

We were making such intense love on her lounge floor that I had to steady myself from fucking her too fast. But no speed seemed _too_ fast for Angela, who kept begging me to keep going, pleading in my ear with how much she loved me, how she wanted me; all the things that kept making me utterly delirious.

I whispered through laboured breaths how I loved her, how fucking beautiful she was, how I’d been longing to touch her. I could feel her tightening around my fingers as her thighs clenched to me even harder. I knew she was going to orgasm soon, and as our tongues slid together in a rhythmic, hard motion, her nails dug tightly into my skin.

“Fareeha…Fareeha!”

My arm’s muscles burned with the fatigue of making love to Angela, and my lips ached for more. More of her. More of this. More of all that I had fantasized about in bed alone.

“I love you, Angela.” I whispered against her ear, before kissing the shell of it. “I love you…so much…”

“Ah! Fareeha, I-I’m going to…!”

Angela’s thighs clenched me hard, before she let out a scream of pleasure; panting against my body as I crumpled against her, my arm coming to a slow stop, and felt her considerably wetter against my fingers.

“Fuck…” I whispered, my throat already hoarse from the heavy breaths I’d been taking during making love to her, and I heard the thud of Angela’s legs crumble against the floor. My hips felt naked without them around it. I felt very happy with the idea of that becoming regular.

“Holy shit…” Angela gasped, her voice just an octave above whisper, and her arms limply hanging around my shoulders. “My God, Fareeha…mm…!”

I kissed her lips. I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. I felt as though I couldn’t get _enough_ , as though she were a drug that I was hooked on forever. Our lips slowly kissed; the satisfying sound of a love refreshed again and again coming from us both. I wiped my fingers against the skin of my hip.

I laughed, breathlessly; I could feel how messy my hair must have been.

“…Want to take this to the bedroom?”

“Hah…give me just a minute. I’m not sure I can walk after that…”

After Angela and I had both recovered slightly, we managed to stumble into her bedroom; a mess of flurrying kisses, touches and breathless gasps of pleasure, falling back against her mattress. We slipped beneath the sheets, her body on top of mine this time, grinding in between my legs and forcing out the insatiable moans that had been trapped in my throat, begging for her to do more to me. To give me all of her. I could barely even believe that this wasn’t a dream.

“Fareeha…” she whispered against my ear, kissing down my neck. My hands rubbed against her back as she pushed herself along my body, and I felt her hand slip between my legs. “Ah…”

I could feel how unbearably turned on we both were, and it was the most incredible sensation I’d ever experienced. Feeling Angela’s hot skin against me, her lips needy and wanting against my very own; the dim light shining through her semi-translucent curtains from the streetlamps outside of her apartment.

We moved, silhouettes in the twilight, our lips slowly kissing this time. Making love was something I’d never had the luxury of experiencing. Getting to experience it now made me feel complete.

Angela hovered over me as she pulled herself back up off of my lips, and as we paused, gasping for breath, I stroked her face with my thumbs.

She smiled at me in a way of pure joy that I had never seen before.

“You really are so beautiful.”

Angela’s flushed face softened, her skin blue from the settling night outside. We were slightly illuminated; pale blue lovers in the evening’s setting sun. The ambience felt gentle; as serene as I could have ever hoped for in Angela’s presence.

We didn’t need any more words after Angela breathed my name one more time, making it sound like the name of a goddess against her tongue, and dipped down to kiss me as tiny noises escaped from my throat.

I felt her making love to me turning into something so much more intense, so full of heat and unresolved lust from the past few months. It made my head spin to feel her so animalistic, so lost in the heat of it all, fucking me hard against her mattress. I could hear her losing her mind just as much as me, my abs tensing against her frame, and finally; between the kissing of my neck and the gasps of delirious bliss, I felt myself climax, and I gripped onto the sheets as I let out a scream of pleasure.

“Aah!”

“Fareeha! Ah…”

Angela slumped down against my body, the two of us both sticky with sweat and exhaustion, and I limply raised my arms to wrap themselves around her panting body.

I could feel her heart beating against mine, thudding hard against the top of my breast, and I felt my tired eyes melt away into relaxation.

“God, Angela…” I breathed in an orgasmic bliss. “You… _wow_.”

“That…that _really_ was worth waiting for, wasn’t it?”

I laughed weakly, kissing her forehead.

“Yeah. It was.”

“I feel like…like I just can’t get enough of you.”

“I’m never going to be able to get enough of you,” I replied in the stillness of the dark, stroking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She grinned as I continued with, “So you’d better prepare yourself for a high-maintenance girlfriend.”

“ _You_? High maintenance? I should be so lucky.”

We both laughed, then; arms wrapped around each other warmly, and throats a little hoarse from such sensations as we experienced just moments ago. Angela rest her cheek against my chest as she lay against me, and I felt the both of us falling into a contented relaxation that I hadn’t experienced before.

Everything with Angela Ziegler was already feeling like the most rewarding experience of all; the lust, the love, the romantic dates and now the making love; but above all else, above all of that, the most wonderful sensation was just getting to call her my own – after all of this time.

We didn’t say much else in the midst of that, but that was what made it all the more perfect. Thoughts were racing far too fast to form coherent sentences; our lips locking far too often to talk verbally compared to the silence of understanding. I knew we’d talk as soon as we woke up once more, probably after even more of the laboured, delayed kisses we’d been having to push to the back of our minds for who knew how long.

I had finally accepted my love for Angela.

There was no going back.

This was the path we had chosen. And in the stillness of the evening, Angela and I drifted off to sleep; warm, safe, and above all else, entangled completely in each other’s legs and arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning!

I woke up to a welcome stream of light against Angela’s bright white bedsheets stirring me from my sleep.

“Mm…”

I turned to my right to look at the alarm clock – 9:32. Much later than I’d usually sleep in, for one thing. And for another, I felt a wide, aching smile across my face as I looked to my left; and found the source of a welcome heaviness against my arm.

Angela Ziegler – sound asleep, softly breathing against me.

I felt the events of last night replay in my mind, and the flashes of emotion ripple all through my nerves. I couldn’t help but shuffle myself down further beneath the sheets to be at eye level with Angela, and I kissed at her forehead gently. She moved slightly, stirring in her sleep, but even as we lay, I could see the tell-tale signs of a smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

Her perfect face. Her full lips. The way that her blonde hair fell against her skin as she slept. God, what _didn’t_ I love about Angela? I could hardly believe the luck I’d experienced, and especially after the day I’d had yesterday.

Reinhardt. Moira. Sombra. All of the names of yesterday’s most prominent offenders rang around in my ears.

I felt myself getting lost in a vat of thoughts I didn’t want to think about, today of all days. I just wanted to look at Angela whilst she slept next to me for the very first time.

“Huh?”

The door creaked open to the presence of nothing, and I felt alarmed. I unintentionally moved my arm slightly from underneath Angela, alert, wary of whatever could be lurking; before I felt a small, heavy presence hop onto the bed with a meow.

“Oh, you little…”

“Mm…Cady, no…five more minutes…”

I turned to face Angela, who was now being walked all over by her deceptively heavy but small companion, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little. The cat rest against her shoulder as she nestled next to me, meowing softly at Angela to wake up.

“Oh…”

Her blue eyes began to flicker open in adjustments to her surroundings, and they met with my own as I looked at her.

“…Good morning,” I stated with a grin.

She blinked twice, before a large, uncontrollable smile reached across her face, smiling from ear to ear. She nestled herself up closer to me beneath the blankets, and I wanted to kiss her even more than usual at that moment.

“My, good morning, Miss Amari. Did you sleep well?”

“ _Excellently_ , thank you. The bed was just as wonderful as the company.”

Angela giggled coyly. “I do hope you’ll return back to this establishment.”

“You’ll have to make me leave to get me to return, you know.”

“Is there ever a time you aren’t sweeping me off my feet?” she replied, stretching beneath the covers; sitting up groggily, and placing her hands on my face.

I chuckled, and leant in to kiss her.

Naturally, we were naïve to think that would be the end of the moment after last night.

A morning kiss turned into slow, soft brushes of our lips, which quickly turned into making out, which turned into us laying our heads back down on our pillows to make out even more ardently.

“I wish every morning could start this way,” I breathed between our lips, and Angela laughed breathlessly.

“Now it can.”

“Good.”

From kisses between the sheets turning to touching to sex in the morning, getting to explore more of Angela’s body in the daylight was fast becoming my favourite pastime.

“God, Fareeha…”

“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

Angela kicked off the covers to reveal the rest of her naked body, and I kissed down her stomach until I rested between her legs. I pulled her legs over my shoulders, her thick thighs resting soft against me, as I spread them apart.

“Aah! F-Fareeha! Ah…!”

I swirled my tongue around Angela’s wet clit, rubbing my lips against it as hard or gentle as she wanted me to. I wanted to _taste_ her, to service her, to make her dig her nails into my skin as I clung to her thighs. She squirmed against my slow movements, my tongue lapping up every inch of her; my lips giving off tiny vibrations from behind my moans.

“Fuck!”

I’d never heard Angela really cursing before, and hearing it just made me feel even better for knowing the intensity with which I was making her feel. Waking her up properly in the mornings with my lips between her legs, sucking and rolling my tongue against an aching clit was all I needed to be happy – and from the noises that reached my ears, for her, too.

Angela soon – and quickly – came in my mouth with a scream, her sheets half grappled off of the bed. Needless to say, Cady had made herself scarce. I was thankful that the cat wasn’t going to interrupt me.

I sat up on my knees, wiping at my lips with my hand, and Angela blushed beneath me.

“Jesus Christ, Fareeha!” she laughed loudly, and her legs went slack around my hips as I sat up. I laughed smugly, _extremely_ smug at bringing an orgasm from the woman I adored so quickly first thing in the morning. I’d lost count of how many months I’d been craving that.

“Wow, I really hope every day can start like this.”

“ _Believe_ me,” Angela croaked out, and sat up with a groan to be closer to me. “It can.”

She pulled my face to hers; kissing at my lips hungrily, moaning as she shuffled herself onto my lap. I held her against me, my hands pressing into her lower back as the sunlight streamed in, the smell of the fresh cotton in Angela’s room mingling with the perfume of her neck, and kissed at my lips hungrily.

“…I told you I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” I gasped against her neck, as Angela slipped a hand down between my legs; prying my thighs apart, and shoving me down against her bed.

Between her touch, my gasps of pleasure, my pure ecstasy at being under her body, and my hands bunched in the back of her hair as I pressed my face into her neck, I felt as though I could never bring myself to let her go. And this time, after we were finished – and after Angela had brought me to an incredible, mind-blowing climax – we lay in bed together, upside down at the end of her mattress, naked and in a hot mess of each other’s presence. My neck was littered in dark marks where Angela had kissed for too long, and I could see along Angela’s skin that it was the same. The sunlight was streaming in from the world outside.

Angela’s fingertip drew lazy circles around my collarbone as we lay, and I held her tightly with one arm; the other propping up my head.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Angela looked up at me, as the words escaped my lips.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe it, but I’m very glad it is.”

Angela smiled.

“Me, too. I’m surprised that…well, that all of this happened so suddenly.”

“I’m not even sure I’d say that this was sudden…given the nature of our, uh…”

Angela chuckled. “Our so called ‘friendship’, huh?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“I always knew I loved you, Fareeha. From the moment I saw you.”

I stroked at her shoulder with my fingertips.

“…I knew you were the one for me the moment I saw you, too. So you can imagine my horror when I dropped all of your belongings from the bottom of that cardboard box.”

We both laughed against each other, and Angela snuggled a little closer to me.

“I can’t say I even realized you’d done that, given that I’d just met such a charming woman who lived in the same building as me. The only two tenants, at that.”

“Lucky me.”

Angela nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

I smirked to myself, and I turned to face her properly; my arm draped across her hips. She rest her hands against either side of my face. Our legs tangled gently into one another’s.

“We’ve a lot to talk about, don’t we?” Angela said, softly.

“I have no idea where to begin.” I replied honestly.

“Me neither.”

I smiled at her gentle expression, and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She rubbed her thumb against the bottom of my eye tattoo just like she always did, and moved closer towards me.

“Fareeha,” she began, “I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk about this right away…but what happened yesterday? Why were you covered in blood?”

I paused, blinking, before I remembered the events of just what happened. I wasn’t surprised Angela had asked about something like that first. The sight of seeing her covered in blood would certainly be an image I couldn’t get out of my head anytime soon; first time sleeping together or not.

Reinhardt. All of the blood. The mystery thickening even more.

“Angela…”

I began to explain to her the events that had unfolded, as well as the plan for tonight’s escapade.

Angela’s eyes widened in horror at hearing my description, and I felt myself fighting back the emotion of seeing a man I knew so well dead – not even just dead, but mangled to within an inch of his life before meeting the grim reaper. I felt sick at the thought, which felt like the strangest, most unwelcome sensation when coupled with my happiness next to Angela.

“God, Fareeha…I…” She began, stumbling over her words, and affectionately tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m so sorry…I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s alright. I just wanted to let you know why I was covered in blood. I promise Sombra hadn’t gotten on my nerves _that_ much.”

Angela chuckled weakly, and I smiled just the same.

“I’m still sorry, Fareeha. It really doesn’t sound like that was…an ‘easy’ find.” She began. “Why, the closest I’ve managed to come to anything like that was when I was training in first aid, and somebody almost cut their finger off by accident trying to pry one of the medical kits off of the wall.”

I smiled at her.

“I’m glad that you’ve never had to deal with that though, Angela. I think what makes it worse is that I already feel like I know who did it…I just don’t know why.”

“Really? Who?”

“Amelie Lacroix.”

Angela looked at me in disbelief as well as that familiar expression of fright, and shook her head.

“ _Amelie_? Amelie Lacroix as in, the one that came to your office and not a strange coincidence?”

I nodded.

“I’m afraid so. But according to Sombra, she thinks something’s going on at The Palace behind closed doors that’s making her do this. With the bosses or something.”

Angela furrowed her brow, and lay against my chest as I kissed her head.

“…I’m sorry about yesterday, Fareeha.” Angela said quietly. “About Moira.”

I paused. I wondered if she was going to bring up her ex-girlfriend or not.

“For what it’s worth,” I began gently, as Angela curled up further next to me. “I believe that you didn’t know she owned that place.”

I felt Angela breathe a disguised sigh of relief, and nodded against my chest as she turned to face me.

“I’m glad, because I truly didn’t,” she replied softly. “I’m sorry that you had to…well, that you had to meet her at all.”

“How did you even meet someone like that, let alone be with them? She doesn’t really seem like…your type, somehow.”

Angela chuckled. “My type?”

“Yeah. You know. You obviously go for the perfect, Egyptian dreamboats.”

Angela’s chuckle became a laugh, and I couldn’t help but let out one at my sarcasm too.

“Wow, all of this modesty! Wherever did you get it?”

“A mystery to even myself, Angela.”

She grinned at me as she lay against my chest, and we shuffled back underneath the covers before we continued. Angela’s chilly skin pressed against me underneath the cotton blanket, and I found myself cuddling her even tighter than before.

“Well,” she began, “I met Moira a couple of years ago when I was thirty-three, and that was during an already bad time in my life.”

“Where did you guys meet?”

“She was running a hospital, actually. I met her purely by chance one day in the hallways of such a place. My mother and father…”

Angela’s voice trailed off. I noticed the air change to one of a sombre kind of tone.

“…You don’t have to continue.”

“No, it’s alright…I want to.”

I smiled at Angela’s strength at talking about something I knew was hard for her to do, and she reflected the smile back.

“Basically, my parents were dying. They were old, frail…I felt like the world was going to end with the two of them. And Moira just happened to be there for me.”

I raised an eyebrow at the last part of that sentence, as I thought on my first impression of the woman in question.

“ _She_ was understanding? She certainly didn’t give that off yesterday.”

Angela laughed.

“Moira isn’t known for her…sensitivity. Which is what surprised me when she _was_ so kind to me.”

I stroked Angela’s shoulder as she continued.

“Well…as time went on, and my birthday came around, Moira was just more…attentive. She would do more things for me, go out of her way to make me feel special…but after a couple of months together, she either got too…comfortable? Complacent? I don’t know. It seemed like I was an afterthought after a while, and I just got sick of it. No amount of money can buy love.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Angela.”

Angela beamed up at me, and kissed my head. I grinned as I continued.

“So why’s she hanging around here again, when you guys have been out of the picture for so long?”

Angela sighed wearily.

“I don’t know, liebling, I really don’t. It was a shock to my system to see her again. I suppose our visit to The Palace ruffled more feathers than we’d thought…let alone that she owned the damn place. She’s always had more money than she’s known what to do with, though.”

As I lay with Angela listening to her talk, I found myself getting thoroughly lost in my thoughts all over again.

So Moira O’Deorain had a medical background. That much was for certain. Angela had met her herself inside a hospital – which was no easy feat to _own_ one. Which only led to more questions – but it certainly gave way to breaks in this case.

Could Moira O’Deorain have had something to do with Amelie Lacroix’s current state?

“…What are you thinking about?”

I blinked, brought back to a beautiful reality with a bump, as Angela’s deep blue eyes met with my very own; her blonde hair tumbling against my chest loosely. She smiled at me, scanning my face with darts of her vision, and I tilted her head up. I felt the urge to kiss her enrapture me all over again.

“Kissing you.”

Angela knew that wasn’t all I was thinking of; but she definitely felt the same ways I did. Her nose brushed with my own, and I felt the soft press of her full lips against mine.

“Good answer,” she whispered, before we became lost in each other beneath the sheets all over again.

-

The day passed very much in the same footsteps of passion as it had in the previous night. Kissing, touching, making love; all of those things were something that Angela and I couldn’t get enough of. Eventually, I lost count of how many hours it had been, entangled up in one another. We’d made our attempt at talking in the morning, and now, we’d succumbed to the feeling of needing each other so badly that our hands ached to be on one another.

We only stopped to grab food from downstairs and to feed Cady – who, all things considered, had been remarkably well behaved – and even after all of that, we fell asleep for a few hours. It was the most relaxing, rewarding day I’d ever had; getting to be amongst Angela’s presence in its entirety, and know that it was all mine. I’d never felt so happy in all of my life.

By the time I woke up, it was dark outside.

The navy blue blanket of shimmering stars had returned outside of her window, and I chuckled to myself at noticing Angela not bothering to open the bar for the night. We hadn’t heard anybody trying to get in for a drink, but we also hadn’t really been listening to anything other than each other.

I slipped out from underneath Angela’s arm, listening to her softly snoring against the material of the pillow; and kissed her cheek as I did so. Having wrapped a dressing gown around me, I walked to the front door of her apartment; opening it gently, and leaving it ajar as I stood in the hallway between our two rooms, sparking up a cigarette as I prepared myself mentally for tonight.

The Palace – tonight was the night of finding out what was really going on. I knew that something was, and I certainly knew that now, more than ever, Moira O’Deorain had something to do with it.

I frowned, horrified internally at the knowledge that Angela had something to do with a woman I deemed to be so unfit for her; but that in itself made me all the more determined.

“Man…what a day.”

I felt Cady’s rumble of a purr as she wrapped around my legs, and I chuckled to myself, stroking her with a cigarette in my mouth.

But as I stood outside in the dark of our hallway, I could hear something. A ringing.

My phone…

At this hour?

I raised an eyebrow in suspicion, and I turned to face the ajar door of Angela’s apartment. I didn’t want to wake her, and it was only next door…surely it’d be fine if I just left it open for a moment.

“Keep an eye out, Cady,” I whispered to the black cat at my feet, and she looked at me with large, grape-like eyes that suggested she had no idea what I was really saying.

I rustled around in the dressing gown’s pocket for my cigarette pack, and took out the spare key that I always kept inside; turning it inside my lock, and rushing to the phone.

I felt comfortable leaving the door open of my apartment. I knew Angela had locked up, and this time, had doubly done so, given the incident from the other night. There was no way anybody could have gotten in without us hearing it, and I felt very reassured by that fact.

With a cigarette hanging from the tip of my mouth, I unhooked my familiar phone from the receiver.

“Amari Investigations at your service. Hello…?”

There was no noise, at first. I paused, a little alarmed at what I’d deemed to be a crank call, and waited for someone to respond.

I repeated myself. Nothing.

And then with a whisper…

“Is Angela Ziegler’s door open?”

My blood ran cold as the somewhat familiar, somehow deepened voice reached my ears. I didn’t respond.

I threw my cigarette into an old coffee mug as I slammed the phone down, and ran back outside; seeing the door was not just ajar now, but that it was fully open.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, my skin sticky with sweat.

I rushed into the bedroom.

“Angela!”

“Wha…?! W-What is it, Fareeha, is everything okay?”

I blinked in disbelief as Angela sat up; pulling her cotton sheets to her chest, and looking at me with great alarm in the dark; her eyes squinting as they adjusted to seeing me in a panic. She gasped suddenly, and I looked at her in fear.

“Fareeha, there’s someone behind you!”


	12. Chapter 12

_There’s someone behind you!_

The words rung in my ears like an alarm.

Time seemed as though it was stopping in slow motion around me. I had a bad vibe from the moment I left that door open next to my apartment. I whipped around, my eyes furiously scanning in the dark; a bewildered, horrified expression on my face.

“Show yourself!” I barked, raising my fists.

Much to my surprise, I felt blinded by the lights flickering on; and a familiar laugh reached my ears.

“Ahahaha! The look on your faces! _Wow_ , Fareeha, you’ve been busy. Your neck looks as decorated as I used to leave it.”

“What the…?! _Sombra_?”

Sombra was stood before me, now holding Cady in her arms, stroking her head with a rumbling, affectionate purr, and cooing at the cat’s face as she played with it.

Angela looked as irritated as I felt, and I stormed up to her; pointedly removing Cady from her arms, and placing her gently on the bed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Scaring us both half to death like that! What’s wrong with you?!”

Sombra’s expression flickered at the anger that she was reading on my face, as her cheeky grin returned.

“Aww, pobrecita. Did I scare you?”

I grit my teeth angrily, and Angela broke the ice successfully behind us; chuckling as she lay beneath the sheets.

“Hey, considering all of the terrifying things that have happened over the last few days, at least _this_ one wasn’t met with a grim end. Right?”

Sombra nodded at Angela, and looked at me pointedly; arms extended.

“Don’t be so sure. There’s still time for a grim ending, and it won’t be for _me_.”

Sombra chuckled.

“ _See_? Why can’t you be more like your girl here, Fareeha? Honestly, lighten up.”

“How in the world did you even get _in_? What the hell was that phone call even about?”

Sombra looked at me with an amused expression in her lavender eyes, and I could only imagine how stoney-faced I must have looked in turn.

“Well, I had a little help in making that call. I was just kidding!”

I frowned, and then I felt angrier, because I knew _exactly_ who her help would have been; and after the suspected help having potentially killed someone I cared about in cold blood, I was in no mood to be trifled with – least of all by her.

I shook my head.

“How did you know that I left the door ajar?” I asked, baffled. “You couldn’t possibly have heard it.”

“I didn’t. I could tell from the light coming in outside. From the window? It was easy for me to see before I rushed up here. Well, easy for a seasoned criminal like me. I just picked the locks of the back door.”

I sighed, irritated. Angela stood up with the blanket around her, and I felt her hands on my shoulders.

“I’m going to go and get dressed,” she whispered in my ear, and kissed my cheek. I felt a little calmer for her intervention, and turned around to face her.

“…All right.”

“Dress in something black,” Sombra chipped in, pointing, “because you’re coming with us tonight.”

“What?!” Both Angela and I replied in disbelief, as she turned to face me wide eyed. “Was this…?”

“No, it wasn’t!” I replied, already knowing if she was going to ask if this was pre-planned. I turned to Sombra incredulously; and she looked at me with a shrug.

“What?”

“You just keep on digging that hole, don’t you? What do you mean _what_?! Did you completely forget what happened yesterday?”

Sombra paused, and I almost felt bad for biting at her in my voice. She shook her head, and a solemn expression overtook her smugness.

“No,” she replied gravely. “I didn’t. But I didn’t want to come in here making a big song and dance of it. I just wanted to lighten the mood! And it _is_ better if Angela comes with us. More eyes couldn’t hurt.”

“But what if something goes wrong, Sombra?” I replied, dumbfounded at the immaturity my old flme had shown in the last hour.

Angela shook her head, and placed her hands on my shoulders again.

“Fareeha,” she began. “I’d actually…rather come with you, if that’s alright. I want to get to the bottom of this myself…and I don’t really feel safe here on my own anymore.”

I looked at Angela’s expression, and I felt anger overcome me with the people who had done this to her. Satya, Moira, the three goons that they had hired; I felt overcome with rage about it all. I closed my eyes, squeezing Angela’s shoulder, and nodded to her in agreement.

“…Alright, sweetheart. If that’s really what you want.”

Angela nodded, and looked at me with a determined smile. I melted a little inside.

“It is. I’ll go and get us some dark clothes, okay?”

“You got it.”

I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of Angela Ziegler in the immediate line of fire; but I was more into that idea than leaving her here on her own, as she said. Danger was encircling us all like a shark, and if Sombra could back-door a double locked bar, Moira certainly could.

Angela nodded to us both, and walked off into the bathroom; grabbing some clothes from her closet as she did so, the blanket only slipping away from her grasp once. Sombra, surprisingly to me, was courteous, and looked away as Angela walked.

As she disappeared into the bathroom, the atmosphere tensed.

I looked at Sombra with an incredibly unimpressed expression.

“What?”

“You are such a fucking idiot. Are you serious?”

“Alright, so it was a little off colour! Who cares? At least it was just me.”

“But it wasn’t _just_ you, was it?”

Sombra looked at me a little guiltily, before rolling her eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

 “Where is she?”

“…Waiting outside. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to clock her one or not after...you know. The potential of what she might have done.”

I folded my arms, and tied my robe tighter around my waist.

“Just bring her in here already.”

Sombra paused; her eyes flicking up and down to gauge my mood for what it really was; and nodded, turning around slowly.

“Amelie!” she called down the stairs. “Get in here.”

There was a brief pause, before I heard heels clicking against wood; and a French accent arrive from outside in the hall.

“You have such a way with words, cherie.”

“I know. It’s a talent.”

I braced myself; and Amelie Lacroix and I met face to face once more, this time, on very different terms.

She stood in the doorway – looking completely different from how I remembered – and I looked back in utter disbelief that she was even standing before me.

“Hello, Miss Amari,” she croaked out guiltily, any flicker of joy or happiness from her face far removed, and instead, there was a watery, knowing sheen over her eyes like a film. She, like me, believed that she’d killed Reinhardt Wilhelm. The only question now remained why.

“Amelie,” I replied curtly. “Good evening.”

Her eyelashes fluttered at my coldness.

“…And to you, too.”

I felt shocked at the sight of her. She looked gaunt. That was the first thing I noticed. I had only seen her just a few days ago, but she looked so much worse for wear that it was almost unbelievable. My sympathy began to come back for Amelie, and I felt the pang in my heart of doubt and resentment mixed together to make the oddest, least satisfying cocktail I could have ever had.

Sombra looked at me pointedly.

“Amelie _volunteered_ to come along tonight. She wants answers, too.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Amelie could hear the infliction of disbelief in my voice, but my expression wasn’t one wholly of contempt anymore.

“I can assure you, Miss Amari,” she replied of her own accord, “I do.”

Angela re-emerged from the bathroom, a vested attempt to get dressed faster than usual, and handed me some black clothing from her closet; slowly looking over the new addition in our room.

“Good evening, Miss Lacroix.”

Amelie nodded to her slightly. “Hello, Miss Ziegler. Thank you for having us.”

“My pleasure,” Angela replied politely, though I could hear she had a tone of wariness in her pleasantries. “Let’s hope we find our answers tonight, hm?”

“I think that’s something we can definitely all agree on, right?” Sombra suggested into the air. I sighed, resigned, and nodded.

“That’s definitely true.”

With the ice broken a little more, and my sympathies for Amelie vaguely returned by her outward, guilty and harrowed appearance, I placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder.

“I’m just going to change. I’ll be two minutes.”

“All right,” she replied, and kissed my cheek.

I smiled at her, and whispered in her ear. “Be careful.”

Angela nodded slightly, and I had never gotten changed faster than that night.

-

After a brief while of Angela making small talk with my ex-girlfriend and her current, potentially murderous one, we were ready to make our escapade into The Palace finally a reality. It was a blessing in disguise that Angela had kept the bar closed today, she had pointed out, due to the fact that anybody going past it would have assumed that she wasn’t here for the day.

With the latest visits from the various array of idiots at The Palace, I was glad to be more relaxed in thinking we wouldn’t be returning to a shotgun’s barrel in our face.

We’d decided to leave out of the back entrance of the bar – the front door being now double locked, and everywhere being as securely kept as possible. Angela and I gave Cady a long fuss before we left, Sombra and Amelie stopping to have a drink downstairs to calm their nerves – or Amelie’s singular nerves, if I knew Sombra’s cocky attitude as well as I knew I did – and eventually, we were all reunited.

“We look like secret agents,” Sombra mused. “This bodes well for tonight.”

Amelie sighed, rubbing her temples.

“I hope we find what we’re looking for.”

Sombra pulled her into her arms cheekily, with a small noise of shock from Amelie’s lips.

“You’re looking good all in black, mamacita.”

“Ferme la bouche.”

Sombra tilted her head back and laughed, reluctantly letting Amelie go.

“Everybody ready?” Angela asked, as her keys jangled from a fumble with the back door’s lock.

“What’s in the bag?” Sombra asked, and I noticed the subtle, darkly-coloured bag at Angela’s side. She patted it proudly, and looked at me as she spoke.

“Medical supplies. You never know when you might need them, and I’m fully trained in first aid.”

I smiled at her preparation, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That’ll be useful, Angela. Thanks.”

I held up my pistol, and Sombra held up her lockpicks; Amelie nodded in the darkness of the bar.

“Alright,” Sombra said, nodding. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. I feel good having a makeshift healer on this team.”

Angela chuckled, and turned the jangling key in the lock one more time.

“Let’s get going, then.”

Stepping outside into the cold, wild winds of night after being in bed all day with Angela at my side was unwelcome enough. I just wanted to have my hands all over Angela’s body still, making the very most of all of the time we’d been misspending apart, but I knew that this had to come first.

This mystery was being solved one way or another tonight – and I was determined to find out what was really going on …even if it killed me.

“Dios mio…” Sombra chattered through her teeth; her black, woollen hat resting atop of her head. “My ears are freezing.”

“All of this nervousness going on, cherie, and you’re complaining about your ears?”

“Yes.”

Amelie sighed wearily, as Angela opened the car door.

“Come on, let’s get going. What’s the time, Fareeha?”

The urge to tease took over momentarily. I tapped my lips.

“It’s time to kiss me.”

Angela laughed affectionately in surprise at my reply, and I smirked at her blushing.

“Will you and Sombra stop being goofballs and just tell me the time!”

I laughed, happy that we were all in relatively good spirits despite the perilous nature of everything that we were about to walk into, and I checked my watch.

“It’s, uh…a little past midnight. I think. It’s kind of hard to see in this lighting.”

Amelie’s brow furrowed as we sat in the car; a welcome, warm respite from the winds of the outside.

“Midnight…they’ll be surely wandering where I am.”

“Isn’t today your day off?” I asked, revving up the engine. Amelie shook her head anxiously.

“No…but I couldn’t face singing today, after…”

Both she and I paused awkwardly.

Amelie cleared her throat, and I fully started the engine.

“…Let’s just get going,” I said bluntly.

Angela placed her hand over mine on the gearstick, and the two of us smiled at each other in the dark; our faces only slightly illuminated by the glowering of the streetlights.

It hadn’t really hit me until I was sat there in the driver’s seat, but the magnitude of everything that had happened over the last few days was so big, so colossally life-changing that I couldn’t quite believe it myself.

This town in Seattle that I had called my home had provided me with so much in such a small space of time – as well as _taken_ so much from me, too. I knew that I was beyond the halfway point of solving this thing; I could feel it. I knew that tonight we’d come away with some answers, no matter how shocking. My mouth felt dry from the sheer sensation of the nervousness I’d been trying to repress since Sombra and Amelie arrived unwittingly on Angela’s doorstep.

The town looked so much more different after dark. I could barely remember the last time I went for a drive at night, let alone a time where I wasn’t utterly exhausted and stressed beyond my wildest dreams. I felt Angela’s unmoving palm gently against my very own, and my thumb stroking her knuckles occasionally. It made everything feel so much more…serious.

The streetlights whizzed by us, high above the cobalt blue of my car; orange lights flooding in momentarily one after the other before disappearing all over again.

The lighting of shop windows and signs added to the calmer, serene ambience that we all felt in the car. In the distance, we could see the obnoxious glow of The Palace, far away – but not far enough for my liking.

“Are you ready for tonight?” I asked Angela quietly, as she grimaced at me. “Uh…are you not?”

She chuckled, and I began to realize that the atmosphere of the car was quiet – too quiet - and I realized I hadn’t really been registering that Sombra and Amelie were getting a little _too_ physical in the back seats of my car. I beeped my horn.

“Gah!”

“Knock it _off_ , children!”

“What?” Sombra interrupted, the noise of her lips slipping away from Amelie’s piercing the air. “Come on, let us have a little fun. Go back to your conversation.”

“You guys better not have sex in the back of my car. Especially not while we’re all in it together!”

“Quoi?!”

“Fareeha, honestly…” Angela laughed, and Sombra waved a hand dismissively; removing Amelie’s legs from her lap.

“God, you’re no fun at all.”

I frowned at her in the mirror, and Amelie looked a little dizzy from such an encounter on top of the rest of her anxiety. In a way, I felt bad for breaking up their not so subtle making out, because it was very obvious why that was happening besides the barrage of physical attraction.

I could see, very clearly and even in the dark, that she was terrified.

It was plain as day to see in the night-time that Amelie Lacroix was scared to death. Her amber eyes looked sunken in; her skin paler than usual. I knew she was both a pursuer of the truth as well as wanting to keep it buried. She knew as well as I that this couldn’t go on.

“To answer your question from a few moments ago,” Angela chipped in to the silence, “I’m ready. I want to find out what we need to.”

“Do you think we’ll find out anything tonight?” Amelie asked.

“I hope so.” I replied, as the unignorably obnoxious glow of The Palace’s lights began to get brighter and brighter. “How exactly are we planning to get in, by the way?”

Sombra lifted up her small packet of trusted lockpicks, waving them to and fro in her hand.

“I’ve got us. We’ll be able to pick our way through the back gate that Amelie mentioned.”

“Gates?” Angela asked.

“Oui. There’s a basement entrance there, unused for ages. Sombra should be able to pick it with a little bit of leeway.”

Sombra wiggled her fingers comically in my mirror, and winked at Amelie.

“I’ve got _magic_ fingers, you know.”

Amelie closed her eyes in exasperation, and Angela pressed her lips together to repress a laugh. I followed suit of both of them.

“Christ, Sombra…”

“What? Can’t a girl just make a joke? I don’t know what you’re all so worried about. _I’m_ relaxed.”

“That’s good,” I replied, a chill up my spine, “because we’re here.”

Sombra sat up a little straighter then.

I drove around as subtly as I could; crawling as slowly and quietly as I could in the most obscure fashion as possible to The Palace, cloaked under the disguise of darkness.

The streets were empty, and it looked like the back streets were completely abandoned. I imagined that The Palace itself had put them all out of business.

“Okay,” I began, a serious tone to my voice, “make sure you keep an eye out for anybody in the vicinity. If you see anyone looking at us, we drive away and try again in ten minutes.”

“Got it.” Angela replied, and her eyes narrowed as we skulked along the empty streets.

With the glare of light from The Palace, it was fairly easy for us to see out; but not easy for people to at least see who _we_ were, disguised in our black attire. There were barely any people along the streets that we had chosen to roll down, but in the distance, we could see Mako Rutledge and Jamison Fawkes, donned in their horrifying masks by the main doorway, arguing with patrons that were refusing to leave.

We caught our glimpse of them through the cracks of the alleyways between the somewhat creepy, tall buildings, and Sombra wound down her window.

“Shh,” she beckoned to us.

We strained our hearing.

“Why wasn’t Amelie Lacroix there tonight?!” One of the women was shouting.

Amelie sat bolt upright in her seat, and all of us were a little alarmed to hear that.

“Yeah! I want my money back, you thieves! You promised!”

“Where was she?! I dropped off my kids early to come here!”

Jamison and Mako were struggling with the angry crowd before them, and Sombra was the first to speak.

“Wow, mi amor! You really _are_ popular, aren’t you?”

“This is not funny, Sombra!”

“But this might be our chance.” Angela said, eyeing the situation hastily. “They’re distracted, and it looks like there are no more guards around for now.”

I nodded in agreement, and we found an empty space to park the car; next to a small, unused, abandoned garbage dump.

It was sealed off with patchy, wired fencing, and a faded “no trespassing” sign. Surrounded by other cars, it was a fair assumption to assume we’d be safe here – or at the very least, unbothered.

As we opened the car doors, we all flew out like creatures of the night. I was impressed by Angela’s stealth, as this was so far out of her comfort zone; but it warmed my heart to see her trying so hard for the sake of all of us.

As we snuck past the old, closed buildings and darted down the alleyway, I peered around the corner.

“Can you see it? The back entrance?” Amelie asked, eagerly. “It should be behind the wire gate. The doors look like a basement's storm entrance. It might be hard to see...”

I squinted into the darkness, and I could make out the faint silhouette of the double doors against the ground.

“Yeah…I think so.”

They were dark; made of what looked like cast iron, and I had to strain my eyes to see it. I slipped out of the corner’s shadow, rushing across to the wire gate that blocked it off, and I could see no way inside besides this gate. Sombra knew she'd have to do lockpicking, and I was very grateful for her foresight.

Angela followed suit behind me, as did Sombra and Amelie; and I felt Angela’s hand gently rest on my shoulder.

“Fareeha, you should probably draw your gun…just in case.”

I nodded in agreement; cocking the gun and loading the ammunition in my hands. I held it down by my hip as we waited; assessing the situation before us. The bitter winds lashed at our faces; my lips tingling as we made it over to the grating subtly.

Angela grabbed my hand with a firm squeeze, and Sombra whipped out her lockpicking tools. 

"Time to get to work."

“Quietly, remember!” Amelie whispered in a hiss of anxiety, watching Sombra rush to the wire gate. I was impressed with her handiwork - if not a little alarmed.

We followed her slender fingers after Sombra had shoved a torch into my hands. I shone it against the lock before her; watching as she made quick work of the keyhole, and – with one metallic shove – the gate was shoved open. The alleyway where Amelie Lacroix alleged she was almost attacked lay before us. I looked around at the floor intensely, but my eyes were baffled by the dark.

"Done."

“Fareeha, do you want to stop to look for anything here?” Amelie asked.

“I really do, actually,” I said, “but I’m not sure we have the time. Especially if the answers lay inside anyway, which Sombra seems to think that they do.”

Amelie furrowed her brow, rubbing her temples; and Angela gasped slightly at something as she turned around.

“Oh! God, that made me jump.”

I turned around to face her, alerted.

“What did?”

As I asked her the question, I began to notice a little more of our surroundings; the garbage bags knocking around, the large dumpsters in the back as I shone my torch; and I finally met eyes with what had made Angela jump. A broken mirror was behind us, fractured in its frame, but not falling out just yet.

“Jesus, what is a mirror doing out here?”

“I don’t know. Bad luck though, for whoever broke it.”

Sombra knelt down next to the basement doors, fumbling with her lockpicks for the third time this evening; Amelie kneeling down besides her as I passed along the torch. With quick work just as before, Sombra managed to unhook the clasp of the lock inside the metal, and I was further impressed at her vigilance.

“Bingo.” She began, and the doors opened with a rusty clang. “Oops…I hope nobody heard that.”

“Let’s get moving,” Angela said, and I nodded in agreement. “Does this lead up to the main areas of The Palace, too?”

“As far as I know, oui.” Amelie responded, biting at her lip. “God, I’m not so sure I want to do this…”

Sombra showed a rare moment of tenderness, and placed her hand on Amelie’s face. Amelie’s hand covered Sombra’s, and I felt the urge to be back with Angela in bed even moreso than usual.

Angela smiled at me, and I smiled back at her; the same thought running through our head. _I love you,_ I thought. _God, I love you._

As we turned to look inside the basement doors; a looming, ominous wind coming up from the cold flooring beneath our feet; I began to realize that we were walking not just into the unknown, but potentially – in the pursuit of _stopping_ deaths across the town – walking to our very own.


	13. Chapter 13

Lowering ourselves down into the depths of The Palace was surprisingly difficult; but mercifully to us all, it was quick.

Angela and I held hands, as did Sombra and Amelie before us; walking down cautiously through the dark steps of the basement’s opening, and pulling the doors above us tightly closed with as subtle of a clang as we could manage. Our eyes adjusted poorly to the non-existence of light around us, and Angela’s warm hand was the only thing I could pick out from the sensation of it against my skin.

“Geez, did they wanna make this place any darker?” Sombra whispered.

“Shh. No talking.” Amelie responded. Angela squeezed my hand and kept close to me in an unspoken – but mutual – anxiety. It felt as though we had suddenly been gripped by the realization that we were actually here.

We trod carefully until we began to see emittance of light from somewhere in the distance – a fluorescent-looking glow coming from one of the doors. I squeezed Angela’s hand calmly, and she nodded against my shoulder; forced closer together in anticipation of whatever was around the corner.

Sombra was the first to land on her feet by the doorway of the light source. She peered in, her dark clothes almost making her still unseeable, before her anticipating frame relaxed slightly, and she beckoned us forwards.

“Nobody’s here,” she called back.

We walked to the frame of the door, and before us, we could see a rather odd room. Angela marvelled at the discovery; letting go of my hand momentarily as she wandered around it.

“What is this place…?” she asked in wonder, and to be honest, I was in complete agreement.

Compared with the glitz and the glamour of the upstairs, this room was incredibly different. As far as we could see, there was no other doorway out; just an elevator that probably went upwards, and the doorway from which we had already entered. But the rest of the room was peculiar; far too peculiar to be a natural addition to any casino underneath the floorboards. I felt as though I was mentally swimming in tar in confusion.

“This place…” Amelie began, thoughtfully.

“You feel something?” I asked, curious. She furrowed her brow, and I watched her eyes squeeze shut as she thought.

“It feels…familiar. Oui, familiar somehow…but I certainly don’t feel good about the familiarity it brings me.”

I could hardly blame her, and I shared no feeling of familiarity with this place at all.

In the room we were stood in, there was nothing. No tables, no chairs, no decorations; save for a large symbol on a wall near to the elevator, and what looked like thousands of tiny, fairy-light bulbs, all strung along the ceiling like Christmas lights. I noticed that Angela was entranced by the symbol before her; her eyes glazing over as though she were lost in thought. I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched slightly. I felt guilty for interrupting her thoughts.

“You recognize this symbol, Angela?”

She paused, before looking back at the symbol itself.

“This is the caduceus symbol. It’s a symbol of medicine.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a wash of new dread come over me. A medicinal symbol?

Where the hell was this place, and why was there this kind of symbol at the bottom of a casino?

There were plant pots around the corners of the room, but they didn’t look as though they were designed for any type of flower that we could gauge. Sombra had knelt down, fascinated by the pottery before her; the deep indigo of the paint used on the clay glinting beneath the sterile lights.

Alongside the glinting of the glow above, the room itself was a sterile white; it also reeked of bleach; but the most prominent thing, even besides the symbol and the vases and the elevator, was a large manhole that rest in the very centre.

“What the hell kind of place even is this?” Sombra asked, bewildered. “I don’t like this. Not one little bit.”

“…This is getting more and more ominous by the second.”

The manhole before us was far too big to _just_ be a manhole cover. It looked like it could fit two or three people in at any given time, and that was concerning all on its own. Angela and I exchanged a look of concern; Amelie’s skin growing increasingly pale. Sombra turned to face her lover, who in exchange, began to tremble.

“Amelie…” Sombra began, astounded at her appearance. Amelie’s slender fingers began to dig their nails into her scalp.

“This place…oh, God…”

Amelie fell to her knees; clutching at her head, and we could hear the sobs coming from her lips. Angela and I moved closer together, whilst Sombra moved in to Amelie. We knew it best to give them the space they needed – but this told me that we were completely along the right track.

“It’s alright, mi amor...”

“Sombra…” Amelie quivered out, her teeth chattering from the nerves. “What is this place? Have you ever been here before?”

“Not once,” Sombra replied; a touch of uncharacteristic gentleness to her tongue. “I don’t know where this is…but this is not right.”

“I’m not getting good vibes, either. Not that I was expecting them, but…” Angela replied, before biting her lip. “This feels…”

There was a long pause between us all, hesitant to admit our reality; before Sombra ushered out,

“I feel like we’ve just wandered into somewhere completely out of our league.”

Angela wrapped her arm around mine, and as I turned to face her, I could see the worry forming on her brow.

I couldn’t help but think to myself how desperately I wanted to be back home in bed with her. How I just wanted to forget any of this ever _happened_ , how I wanted to bask in the sheer luxury and the happiness that I felt at finally having her to myself. But I began to grow worried, as I looked at my lover’s beautiful face, that maybe I _had_ been too rash in kissing her. Maybe I shouldn’t have acted so fast when I knew this was going to happen. I wanted so badly to keep Angela out of harm’s way, out of all of the terrors and the tribulations that this god-awful city had to offer.

But now she was here, and she was here with me – so all I could do was protect her.

“Fareeha…I don’t like this.”

Angela’s speech snapped me quickly out of my thoughts, and I nodded in an instant agreement. I stroked her wrist with my hand, nodding.

“Me neither…but as long as we -”

A sudden noise. High-pitched.

A _ping_.

“What the…?” Sombra asked in bewilderment, before all of the blood drained from our faces.

“It’s the elevator…someone’s coming!” Amelie hissed, her voice breaking into a choked sob. “Oh, God…someone’s coming, _someone’s_ \- !”

“Amelie!” Sombra stated firmly, and stood her up by a firm grip to the shoulders. “Just hold it together until we get out of here! Got it?”

Amelie blinked twice before nodding; though really, I was more in the same camp as her. I almost felt naïve, despite that nothing had happened, as though we had been children jovially assuming we were to enter a haunted house. I knew I was out of my depth. So did she.

I held my gun tightly against my leg, rushing with my companions outside of the doorway that we had entered; and we all held our breaths as we hung behind the wall.

The elevator door opened with the same ping we had heard before; and to follow, we heard three or four sets of footsteps.

There was a long pause and a shuffle; grunts of carrying something heavy, and a thud as it was dropped onto the floor.

As we waited, hidden snugly behind the wall’s corner, Angela placed her hand over my mouth from behind; I supposed I had been breathing too loud from the adrenaline. Her thumb stroked the mark of my tattoo affectionately, and I felt the emotion die in my throat. I wanted so badly to run away from all of this with her at my side.

“Another defect?” we heard an unfamiliar voice say; the strokes of Angela’s thumb, warm and comforting, now a thing of the past.

“Yes, unfortunately.” A familiar voice spoke. “The quality of the subject reflects the blessing I can give them. I’m not a miracle worker. Well, actually…maybe _I_ am a little.”

An Irish accent…? _Moira O’Deorain!_

“What happened this time?” Another voice said.

“The blue pills didn’t work, so there was no chance at _all_ of survival, let alone our actual intended purpose. The clots didn’t form, so neither did the strands.”

There was a disembodied, dismissive laughter from those involved, and I felt Angela’s hand trembling a little with rage against my cheek at their flippancy.

I placed a hand over hers against my mouth; warmly clasping it. She calmed slightly.

“What do you think, Vaswani?” Moira asked, and even though I heard her fold her arms, I could practically hear the cocking of her eyebrow. “I know you’ve never wanted to be too on board for this project. How good of you to come along.”

The familiar tones of Satya Vaswani spoke; a dull, unimpressed tone residing on her tongue.

“I think that this is positively barbaric of you, actually.”

“But you don’t have a leg to stand on really, do you?” Moira retorted quickly, as though she had deliberately been goading Satya’s hand, and chuckled. “You know what’ll happen if you -”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Moira laughed at Satya’s eager interruption.

“ _Excellent_.”

There is a brief silence.

“You know,” Satya said into the silence, “the best subject your lot have had to date is definitely Lacroix. The change is becoming rather… _noticeable_.”

“That may be true, but her head should damn well roll for missing work _again_. How many times has that been now this week alone? Starlet singer or not…”

“Well, can you really blame her, ma’am?” one of the others alongside Satya and Moira said. “She doesn’t even know what’s going on. She must be terrified.”

Moira sighed wearily, and then grunted as she, Satya, and the other two people lifted up something heavy.

“Well, just imagine – how happy she’ll be -” Moira continued, her speech straining, as there was a scrape of a manhole cover loudly groaning against the floor, “when she – finds out what this – is all leading up to. Lacroix is the kind of woman that _could_ live in the spotlight forever. She’s lucky to have this kind of opportunity.”

With a dull thud, and the sound of a kick, something was dropped inside where the manhole cover had been sealing. Moira is the first to make a prudish noise; with one of the other standing by individuals gagging.

“Eugh, it reeks down there.”  

“Well, it _is_ the sewers, ma’am,” Satya replied, a deadpan tone to her voice, and an infliction of venomous resentment at the end of her coming sentence, “I’m amazed that the police haven’t even noticed your…contributions to it.”

Moira laughed; a smug, throaty, triumphant laugh that I was already becoming far too familiar with.

“Well, Satya…even if they did, what could they possibly do to me? I’ve got more leverage over them than anyone else in this city. None of them have been sniffing around, have they?”

I felt my own bubble of rage boiling away in my stomach. Flashes of Reinhardt ran through my mind, along with Brigitte laying there in that hospital bed. My fist clenched.

“Not at all. Oh, well…actually, there was one. A private investigator.”

Moira paused, and I felt the nerves settling into my stomach.

I knew she was going to know who I was.

“…A private investigator?” She repeated, intrigued. “And just who was this?”

“Her name was Fareeha Amari. I sent some of our best brass to scare her and the woman she came with. They claim -”

“Wait.” Moira interrupted, a brisk edge to her words. “A woman?”

Satya paused, confused.

“…Yes, ma’am.”

“What did she look like?” Moira replied, and sounded increasingly more irate. “Tell me!”

“Well…” Satya began, baffled in her response. “She was blonde, of average height…I think she had blue e-”

“You _fool_!” Moira hissed, and all of us heard the scruff of Satya’s blazer being grabbed. “You idiot! You sent those morons to her establishment?!”

“Of course! Isn’t that what you would have wanted?!”

“You FOOL!”

“Ma’am, please!” one of those standing by chipped in anxiously. “We were just following protocol!”

There was a brief silence.

It was as deafening as it was palpable. I could feel Angela’s hand trembling against my face inside her bones, and Amelie shaking slightly against Sombra’s body next to us. Every part of me was screaming to jump out, to beat the living daylights out of Moira and get our answers, but I knew that wasn’t the best decision. I forced myself to remain quiet.

I looked at Angela; gently removing her hand from my face, and I could tell, even in the dark, that she was close to tears. Tears of frustration, of rage, of sadness; I didn’t know. But I knew that we all felt the same. The night had only just begun, and _god_ , I missed holding her in my arms.

The longest two minutes in the world had passed.

We heard Moira as she dusted off her hands slowly, and we could all envision the expression she was pulling. She cleared her throat, and began to walk towards the elevator.

“…No matter.” She replied calmly, as though she hadn’t just been needlessly attacking Satya Vaswani for a rule she herself put into place. “I will deal with those two…personally. If they show themselves again, you are to immediately detain them and bring them to my office. Are we clear?”

There is another pause.

Satya is the first to reply; professional and devoted as she is to her cause. It made me wonder what kind of leverage Moira O’Deorain must have had on a woman like her to keep her bound to such a position.

“Yes, ma’am. You can be rest assured we will be keeping a vigilant eye out.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

Moira, Satya, and her two anonymous companions all piled into the elevator doors; the manhole cover being returned with a loud, obnoxious scrape before their departure; and almost as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone. The elevator returned up the shaft with a large whoosh.

After another minute had passed, I was the first to tentatively poke my head around the corner; checking to see if the coast was clear, and it was. Angela wrapped her arms around me, and I felt all of the trauma running through her bones.

“What the hell are they doing in this room…?” she asked, and I could tell that her shaking was a tremble of utter rage. “Fareeha…just what is Moira doing?”

“They spoke of me, too…as a subject?” Amelie chipped in, and her already gaunt expression looked even more terrified than before. Sombra kissed her lips twice; Amelie relaxing ever so slightly, but barely into her arms. “What are they doing to me?”

I could see, visibly, that Sombra was angry. Angry for those people experimenting with something that was a treasure to her, angry that she couldn’t have prevented it, despite working in the same building as Amelie. She tucked a strand of navy hair behind Amelie’s ear, before she turned to face Angela and I.

“…It sounds like you both narrowly escaped death yesterday. Moira sounded positively livid that the three who came to see you also came for Angela.”

I turned to face Angela, who clenched her jaw in disgust.

“I can’t believe I used to…” she began, before trailing off. I watched as the gears inside her brain changed tact. “Ugh. I think we should really just check what is beneath the manhole cover, get up to the top of this place, and scavenge around. Maybe there are more rooms to check.”

“Are you sure, Angela?” I asked her, a sense of foreboding coming across me. “Nothing good is gonna be underneath this cover.”

Angela nodded quickly, as though she couldn’t bear to think too long on the subject, in case she changed her mind.

“Yes,” she mumbled, holding my hand tightly. “Let’s just do it.”

Sombra and I nodded to each other, and we walked to the centre of the room. Sombra wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh, it really _does_ stink in here.”

“Let’s just…get this awful task over and done with.”

There were two handles that had been built into the metal of the cover. Sombra slipped one slender hand into one handle, and myself the other.

“…Ready?” Sombra asked, and I had never seen her so apprehensive; or felt like it myself.

This felt like pulling the plug and lifting an alarm of something too dangerous; far too beyond our league of expertise. But we’d come so far, been through so much already, and it certainly felt as though we were in too deep.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry from anxiety. I nodded.

“…Alright.”

We pulled hard with a grunt on the manhole; the metal clatter landing on the floor.

Sombra fell back, and so did I slightly.

What we saw down in the depths made us all repress a scream.

I was the first to let out my words.

“Oh, my God! What the…?!”

Angela’s blue eyes widened, and she slammed her hand over her mouth fast; turning away before she could get full glimpses of the horrors below. Amelie’s eyes widened in utter, undiluted horror as she saw the full picture, and Sombra looked down into the hole aghast – nose wrinkled and wretching.

“What the fuck is that?!” she cried between gags.

 _Bodies_.

Numerous amounts of bodies.

There, down in the depths of this awful sewer access, were a pile of innumerable, discarded bodies; all in varying stages of decomposition; all with different kinds of horrid afflictions to the face, arms jutting out of the pile, legs broken into unnatural shapes and angles, and god knew what more there was in the dark.

I looked on aghast, retching inside from horror, and could see from here that they were most definitely all dead, and rotting in a pile of a putrid, disgusting mass. Angela staggered to the corner of the room, and I felt the blood completely drain from my face. Sombra scrambled for the manhole cover with Amelie.

“P-Put it _back_ , Sombra, put it _back_!”

“I’m _trying_!”

I rushed over to Angela, who had her hand placed firmly on the wall before her. I could see that she was horrified, traumatized by the fraction of a sight she had seen of bulging eyeballs and torn apart bodies. All of those lives ended, and for what?

What was going on here in this casino? Who were these people?

 “I’m gonna be sick…” Angela said, wincing in pain. “Oh my God, Fareeha, how…how could someone just…”

“Angela, it’s gonna be okay, it -”

A ping reached our ears.

“Oh no…!”

The elevator was returning.

Somebody was returning back.

“Fuck!” Amelie cried, and Sombra grabbed her by the wrist.

“That does it. We’re out of here!”

“Sombra, no! We have to find what we came here for!” I shouted. “The deaths, these experiments! All of our answers are here somewhere, there’s no point leaving now! We need to hide and wait it out!”

“Fareeha Amari, we are going to fucking die in here!” Sombra yelled; her cool, cocky demeanour seemingly a thing of the past, and seeing her panicked in such a way made me feel even more uneasy about the budding situation. “Is that what you want?! To be a part of that awful, disgusting mess down there?!”

“Of - of course not!”

“Then we need to go! This is _far_ beyond our league! I was just – just expecting to find some bullshit _papers_ or something! Stupid gambling rings, maybe an assassination or two! Not an entire sewer full of dead bodies from whatever the fuck they’ve been _doing_! We need to skip town!”

I felt such a pain clenching my heart of pure anxiety, dread and sadness; I couldn’t believe this is what was driving us out. We had spent so long trying to get in here, trying to find the best method into this place, only to be turned away from something that was so clearly out of our league.

“ _Fuck_!” I yelled angrily. “God damn it!”

“We need to go!” Angela said in a panic, as the elevator drew closer in a slow crawl. “ _Now_!”

She grabbed my hand as Sombra and Amelie sped past us, running up towards the basement’s double doors that led back outside; and just as we left, we heard the elevator door open.


	14. Chapter 14

My head was spinning.

I never knew that under this kind of pressure – under the threat of a purely stressful, disastrous situation – that my mind could ask myself so many questions. Did we put the manhole cover back properly? Who was the first out? Would we actually manage to escape alive?

Two of those questions were answered instantaneously; and it wasn’t the dubious curiosity of wondering whether we would live through the night.

“Ugh, that stench…!”

My blood ran cold.

Moira O’Deorain was the first to run out; and could clearly see that we had not put the manhole back inside properly.

“Somebody’s been in here!” she shouted angrily, before being knocked back by the reek of death in the air. “God…! Show yourself, you cowards!”

“They can’t have gotten far!” Satya declared; and for the first time since all of this began, I felt truly frightened. I realized as our boots hammered up the stairs, and our breaths rattled and ripped against our lungs, that I was terrified.

For the first time in a long time, I was frightened because I had more to lose. I had the love of my life here with me, as well as two women that I had become very fond of; one all over again in a different, platonic capacity. I didn’t want anything to happen to them, or to me. I didn’t want to die.

The flashes of the bodies in the sewer kept running through my mind. I felt revulsion, horror; an utterly contemptuous rage. The knowledge that Brigitte or Amelie could have been in that sewer made my blood boil – let alone that it could just as easily of been Angela or Sombra. I wanted to beat the hell out of Moira, make her pay for whatever it was she was doing – but why was she doing it? Was it really just her?

“There!”

A torch shone up to us by the basement’s double doors. I felt blinded by the light, and then frightened once more by the grizzled laughter that echoed up the steps.

“ _You_!” Moira seethed. “I knew you were a little rat! I knew you’d come, but my, I’m surprised by the rest of you! Particularly _you_ , Angela!”

I could see Moira had a gun in her hands, as did Satya. There were two other casino workers at her side; two of whom I didn’t recognize but were in uniform, and who were armed with what looked like large machetes. Sombra and I pointed our respective weapons at Moira; Amelie and Angela behind us.

“Heh, you’ve always been one for big talk, haven’t you Moira?” Sombra said shakily, and I could feel that she was saying this as a distraction.

Brushing subtly against my thigh, Sombra shuffled back lockpicks to Amelie’s trembling hands, and I prayed that she could make swift work of the door. It would have been a sure escape if Sombra could do it – but could Amelie Lacroix?

“You fucking monster!” Angela yelled back; an unintentional distraction, and instead a mixture of rage and sadness. Moira looked faltered by her words; guilty, almost. “You are a butcher! A barbarian! How could you?! How many people have you hurt?!”

“What are you talking about?” Moira said, pleadingly. “I didn’t kill anyone!”

“You are full of shit!”

Sombra held her knife firmly in her hands, and I cocked my pistol with a satisfying click.

“Don’t be like that, darling.” Moira shouted up the stairs. “Come on, drop this now. Surrender where you are. You’re trespassing, you know.”

“So you can what, exactly?!” I shouted down the stairs. “So you can do something to us like you did to those poor people inside the sewers?”

Moira laughed, before shaking her head.

“You know, I wasn’t lying. I didn’t actually kill anyone. All of those people were _volunteers_ , you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They volunteered. They had unfathomably high debts to the casino, you know? They had to pay it back somehow. So they volunteered themselves.”

I knew this was my chance to squeeze some information out of Moira. If she had anything to do with Brigitte’s attack, now would be the only chance to find that out. I knew I had to ask, had to scream it as loud as I could.

“What happened to passers-by?” I shouted. Moira looked at me confused.

“What?”

I steadied my breath.

“What happened to people who…who were in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Moira paused, before shrugging.

“Obviously, people who got in the way were dealt with appropriately. I mean, some of them are now probably still alive…but no doubt in some sub-par hospitals around this town. Who cares?”

My bottom lip quivered with rage as I spoke. _Brigitte and Reinhardt!_

She _was_ the one responsible!

 How could this woman be so callous, so cold to human life? Was this really all there was to her?

“Are you even human?” I blurted out in a blind rage.

Moira paused; it was as though the question had taken her completely off guard, and ran a hand through her sunset hair.

“Am I _human_ …?” she repeated back to me, curiously. A smile crept across narrow lips. “Well…for now, yes.”

Angela was the one to shout this time.

“What the hell are you talking about, Moira?!”

“Angela, darling…don’t you want to live forever?”

Amelie was getting closer to the lock being broken. I could hear the chinks and the clicks subtly behind me, and Moira wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly what was going on. I could hear the faint whispers of “merde” and other panicked French utterances slip from her lips; and I could feel Sombra next to me getting even more panicked.

“ _What_?” Angela asked.

“I meant exactly what I said. Don’t you want immortality, with boundless wealth? To see the story of humanity unfold, and to reach the end of the universe, when the stars go out and the sunlight of the world fades into the abyss?”

Angela scoffed incredulously.

“Who on this _earth_ would ever want that, Moira! You’re insane!”

“Not insane, Angela, _ambitious_!” Moira replied, a more animated tone to her voice. She waved her hands around in passionate motions, still clinging to the pistol in her left hand, and I prayed that Amelie was going to be done soon. “Ambition is the fruit to which all humans find their dreams! Their life achievements! Immortality…something that has never been done, but that I _can_ achieve! I’m so close…I can _feel_ it! With a few little edges to straighten out, we’d be able to do it perfectly! This isn’t about human experimentation, Angela. This isn’t even about death – in fact, on the contrary, this is about giving the human race what we all crave – _eternal_ life!”

None of this was making sense. Immortality? Was that what Moira was chasing after all?

Her speech was slurred with delirium; her happiness completely wound up by a sense of already pre-disposed success. Her confidence was absolute. I envied her delusions.

“Ma’am, should you be telling them all this?” Satya asked; fierce eyes pointing at us from behind the gun.

Moira chuckled darkly; and with the animated, passionate glint leaving her eyes; I knew we were about to be in trouble.

“Don’t worry, Vaswani, they aren’t leaving here alive.”

Amelie’s fingertips faltered.

Angela, myself and Sombra remained as a wall before her.

“I developed a drug, Angela.” Moira continued, without any prompting. “I developed a drug back at the hospital that we met at known as ‘Coalescence’. There were two versions of it – one that was significantly dangerous, but provided vastly better benefits if it worked; the other one that provided little to no danger, but as a result, any benefits gained were through luck. Amelie Lacroix…in the middle of all of these idiots that I gathered from various parts of town, she was the most receptive to both!”

“Don’t listen, Amelie, just keep working!” Sombra whispered, panicked.

“But there was a flaw…wasn’t there, Lacroix?”

Amelie’s fingertips faltered; the clinks of her lockpick rattling against the keyhole.

“…What do you mean?” she asked, hesitant for the answer.

“You know what. You can feel it.”

A click!

The basement doors were open!

“The thirst for human blood.”

“We’re out of here!” Sombra cried, and with the sudden spattering of deafening, horrible bangs from guns firing in a tiny corridor, we fell up and out of the basement’s storm doors; landing onto the now wet ground.

The rain was pounding against the tarmac. The night’s breeze made the raindrops feel like sharp icicles; falling against the patches of our revealed skin with a biting cold.

“We need to get out of here, fast!” Angela announced; the air ripping through our lungs as we sprinted. Our boots splashed against the ground, echoing off of the walls in the alley as we rushed. Sombra shook her head frantically.

“God, get into any car! We can’t make it to our car in time!”

“ _Amari_!” Moira screamed up the stairwell. “Get back here!”

“Fuck!” I mumbled to myself, before I saw the shoddy looking car parked closest to us.

As we ran to the car, I broke the window with a fierce three bangs from the bottom of my gun. Sweeping away the glass, I unlocked the car doors; sitting against blunter, less shattered parts in my hurry; and Sombra, Angela, and Amelie all scrambled in.

“Angela,” I panted, kicking the wires out from the ignition panel before us, “you ever fired a gun?”

Angela swallowed hard, but I saw the same determination in her eyes that I saw the other day – the determination to live – just like when she stared back down the barrel of a shotgun.

“…I’ve not, but I’m going to find out now, aren’t I?”

I nodded; sparks flying from the wires that I was scrambling to hotwire with my hands. She took the gun off of my lap, and with one final spark, the roar of the engine reached my ears; the ignition had started.

“Good attitude,” I replied to her, breathless.

“I love you, Fareeha.”

I paused, even in the midst of the action, and smiled weakly at a determined – and suddenly, somehow much more hardened – Angela Ziegler.

Time always stopped hearing her say that. Just that one phrase.

I loved her so much.

“…I love you too, Angela.”

“C’mon, lovebirds, go, go, go!”

I slammed my foot onto the gas.

We tore up the road with a loud scream of the tyres; the rubber smoking behind us as we drove. Moira, Satya, and the three or four other goons that they were with sprinted to somewhere out of sight – more than likely getting into a car that The Palace owned, which would undoubtedly be faster and more efficient than whichever unfortunate soul owned this one.

The rain was pounding down; splashing against the side of the door and flecking onto my cheek from the broken window. My frozen hands gripped the steering wheel; Sombra with a small pistol, Amelie with what looked like a revolver she had kept tucked away inside her inner jacket, and Angela with my own pistol now locked and loaded.

I turned as many times as I could; screaming tyres echoing down the empty streets. I was terrified that we were going to crash at any given moment, between the bad weather and the adrenaline and the night-time, but so far, we were doing okay – before the loud pops began in the air. _Bullets_.

“Incoming!” Angela shouted, leaning slightly out of the window. “I’m going to start shooting!”

“Alright!” I said, anxious for her wellbeing. “Be careful!”

I looked in the rear-view mirror, and my frantic eyes were greeted with a speeding, black car, that was already catching up with us. Satya and an unknown goon leant out of the windows; wearing visors to block the rain, and larger, scarier looking revolvers pointing at us.

“Get down!” Sombra shouted, and we all ducked as we heard glass shattering in the back window of the car. “Shit!”

Angela shot back; three or four shots at the car; but to no avail. Amelie leant out of the window next, still ducking to make sure that we didn’t get hit. It was a miracle that with a broken back window I wasn’t getting immediately filled with bullets, but the bad weather was serving as a double edged sword to us all right now.

“Aim for the tyres!” I declared over the sound of the wind and rain rushing through the newly shattered glass. “Try to aim for their tyres, Angela! You guys too!”

“Sombra!” Moira shouted from out of the car window behind us; her voice carrying over the noise, and both of our cars now pulling onto a deserted motorway. “Hey, Sombra!”

“Fuck off, Moira!”

“Hand them over, and I’ll guarantee yours and Lacroix’s safety!” Moira shouted, and we could all hear the laughter in her voice. “The cure for her affliction can be yours!”

Satya and the other two thugs shot repeatedly at the boot of the car. This was already a rattling boneshaker of a courier; let alone what it was going to do to the gas tank if a bullet hit it. My foot ached from slamming down on the gas so hard, and Moira joined in with the shots.

Angela leant out of the window, shooting back again; before letting out a cry of pain.

“Augh!”

“Angela?!”

Angela pulled her hand back in; a bullet had grazed the surface of her skin, but had burned it badly from the gunpowder residue.

“Damn it!” she exclaimed.

“Hold on, we’re gonna get out of here!”

Moira continued to shout. “Come on, Sombra! I know you don’t work for anybody but yourself!”

“Fuck _off_ , Moira!” Sombra shouted back again angrily, and shot at the car behind us. “Asústame panteón!”

Moira’s goading and Sombra’s anger was both to our gain; because with one loud, lucky shot – a shot that I wasn’t sure was _ever_ going to hit – an explosion of a rubber tyre behind us caused their car to screech to an unsuccessful holt on the wet asphalt.

“NO!” Moira yelled.

“Aha!” Sombra cried in triumph, and light reached all of our eyes in hope.

The black car behind us flipped onto its side with a loud crash; the brakes and the traction of their remaining tyres not enough to stop the car from faltering in such a large way. The steam rose off of the side of the engines; the side door on the side that could be open being booted so hard it flew off.

Moira scraped herself up out of the car. Her red hair dampened by the torrential rain; her demeanour as handsome as it was evil. Her face, even at a distance, you could see was utterly filled with rage.

She screamed something at us that I couldn’t hear.

We tore up the motorway and away from the small town I knew so well.

I had no idea where we were going to go, but one thing was for sure…and that was that nothing would be the same anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning!

After two hours on the long, empty stretch of motorway, a cigarette had never tasted as good as it did at the moment we arrived at Dos Santos Motel. It had also been my fastest.

“Everyone alright?” I had asked a couple of hours before; five minutes into the silence of travelling there. And we all nodded; Angela wrapping her hand up in a handkerchief I had in my pocket, alongside Sombra and Amelie shaking as they agreed.

We were all alright - we were all in one piece. Out of ammunition and patience, we’d made it out from The Palace, and Moira had suffered a setback so big that meant she needed to reconsider her approach altogether.

We drove for a while after my question into the poignant silence.

About an hour or two, and as far away from home as possible. We needed time to regroup, time to decide how to approach this; but above all else, we were all freezing cold, traumatized, and completely exhausted. We needed to sleep and recuperate, just for tonight.

“A motel,” Amelie suggested quietly. “I know one along this strip of the motorway.”

The _Dos Santos Motel_ – I’d been here a couple of times to talk to clients that didn’t want to be recognized in town. It was just far enough out of town to not be thought of as an immediate hotspot easily for Moira – many other motels were in between there and Dos Santos – and it would definitely give us a lot of time to ourselves.

We all had people we wanted to contact and protect. My thoughts immediately went to my mother’s wellbeing. I shut my eyes in fear and thanked God in a twisted way that Angela _was_ with me and not waiting for a visit back at home, this time from a man who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the gun’s trigger.

Lost in my thoughts, our bone shaker of the car pulled into the carpark of the motel; chugging and heaving its exhaust as it did.

As the engine came to a rolling stop, we all sat in a daze for a moment. Our faces all felt frozen from the windows being shot out, the blasts of night-time air curving against our cheeks, wet and bitter; cutting into our skin for the duration we drove.

“Jesus Christ.” I said, half-relieved and out loud.

“I’m so glad we all survived,” Angela replied in exhaustion, “because that was a close call.”

“No kidding,” Sombra said with a shaky laugh. “Huh. This place isn’t half bad for a motel.”

I had to agree. This place – as far as motels went, anyway – was really pretty okay. The quintessential, obnoxiously neon glow of the motel’s sign glared atop a high perch; a simple statement, ‘MOTEL’, was glaring in illuminated pink letters, giving the mint green of the exterior an interesting hue.

There were vacancies, and a large sign atop the main building that said the name of the establishment looked slightly run down, but not too much. In the middle of the car park were three palm trees – covered in plastic, colourful frogs. I was surprised palm trees could even survive all the way out here.

“Let’s go in,” Amelie suggested, her teeth chattering. “I’m freezing.”

“I have a question before we enter.”

I turned to face Sombra curiously.

“…What is it?” she asked.

“Are we booking two rooms, or staying in the same one?”

I paused, and looked at Angela, who looked back at me with the same confusion written on her face.

“Mm…” she began. “It might actually be better if we split up into two separate rooms. That way, they might be tricked into thinking one set of us has already gone ahead. If they find us, that is.”

“Good thinking,” Sombra nodded, though I could tell from the look on her face she was just relieved to be able to be alone with Amelie for a while. I couldn’t blame her. I was definitely feeling the same about Angela.

As we approached inside, I realized three things.

One being that we were all soaking wet; the second that Angela’s hand was wrapped in a bandage. The third that we had rolled up in a shattered, broken, stolen car.

I grimaced at the small man before me, sunny in his demeanour, as he sat at the reception desk.

“Hey, ladies!” he said; a bright, tone to his voice that faded into worry the more he looked at our appearance. “Wow, you all look a little…bedraggled?”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Wow,” Sombra said, rolling her eyes. “Are you always this tactful with your guests?”

I interrupted quickly as he blinked.

“…Could we book two rooms, please?”

“Sure,” he said, chuckling to himself as he picked up the pencil next to his notebook. “Two double rooms, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright…let’s see…” he began, writing down the entries with a satisfying scrape of lead against paper.

We all heard the crackle of static from his radio behind him in the silence; a jazzy tune beginning to play. His already positive demeanour changed even further to one of a seemingly beaming positivity, and his head began to nod along to the beat of the drums and saxophones melodiously coming together.

“Oh, man! I love this song!”

“You like jazz music?” I asked in conversation, as though we hadn’t just had our minds blown three hours prior.

“Sure do! Give yourself to the rhythm, you know? Doesn’t it make your soul feel good?”

“You’re a positive guy, huh?”

He nodded.

“Music heals all wounds, you know.”

“If only life were really that simple.”

He chuckled. “It can be. Perception is everything.”

He finished writing down in the notebook before him; two doubles, four females, all paying with cash. I was very glad that I had brought some with me, and even further glad that this place was just as cheap as I was hoping – we just managed to scrape together enough.

I handed him the dollar bills, and I smiled as his eyes lit up.

“Thanks, miss. Have a nice stay, everyone!”

The three ladies behind me grimaced as he handed Amelie and Angela the room keys, and we walked through the dingy, dimly-lit motel’s hallways.

“We’re staying in room 119…what about you?” Sombra asked.

“126 for us,” Angela stated, and I could hear the exhaustion laden in her voice.

“Alright. See you in the morning.”

Sombra nodded, wearily wiping her eyes.

“Ugh…remind me to never hang out with you guys again.”

Angela and I chuckled; but for a split second, I could see something in Sombra’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

Regret? Sadness? Contemplation?

I couldn’t tell.

She looked somehow…different, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. But I knew now wasn’t the time to be thinking about any of that.

Sombra and Amelie turned on their heels; their hands instantly coming together in one fell swoop, and walking down the hallway away from Angela and I’s direction. Their footsteps were soft against the carpet; muted. Somehow, I felt like they were final. I didn’t know how I really felt in those moments.

Angela squeezed my hand with her good one, snapping me out of my thoughts, and smiling up at me with a weak, exhausted expression.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

I nodded, our key jangling as we opened the door; and the moment we entered the room, I pulled Angela into my arms.

The door closed behind me with a satisfying click.

I held her.

“Fareeha…” Angela mumbled against my neck; and I held her tighter than I ever had any other time she’d been in this position.

The neon lights of the room illuminated us through the blinds, and I just _held_ her. My hands smoothly stroked against her back; my arms strongly keeping her against my body in a place she didn’t try to move away from. Her arms coiled around my neck as we leant back against the door, and her fingers fumbled with the locks over my shoulders, before she slid both of her hands up in my hair from the base of my neck.

Our noses were touching as I held her tight; the cotton of her damp black jumper rubbing against my chin.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

The words whispered from my lips before anything else in the world could leave them. I was so glad she was alright. I was beyond happy that she had survived. To be able to feel the warmth of Angela’s back against the palms of my hands again was a luxury in itself.

“I’m so glad you’re alright too, liebling…” Angela whispered in the neon dark, her lips brushing against mine. “ _God_ , just…let’s just make each other feel good tonight. I don’t want to talk about tonight, not yet. I just…”

Angela’s better hand moved from the back of my dark hair; stroking against the skin of my cheek, and I smiled as her thumb stroked at the bottom of my tattoo again.

“I just want to be with you.”

My heart melted for the first time in hours. I had missed the moments of just being able to get lost in my daydreams of Angela, of her lips against mine, and the ways that her beautiful eyes always looked at me. My eyes were half-lit, and so were hers; a blush coming across her cheeks, warming them from the cold the same way I was warming her body.

“I couldn’t ask for more than you, sweetheart.” I replied, and I leant in to kiss her lips.

Undressing Angela against the neon lights was indescribable.

I peeled away at the layers of her clothes. Unwrapping her; a gift, a treasure; a golden nectar to my senses. Her sweater, her pants, her bra; pulling her onto my lap as I sat on the edge of the bed, kissing her perfect lips with as much of a passion as I could muster. My tongue slid against hers in fits and hot bursts of lust, especially as my hands rubbed their palms up and down the exposed skin of her back.

Angela’s naked body pressed me back against the bed, and I felt the heat between her legs aching just as much as I was.

“Ah…Fareeha…” Angela breathed, her voice dripping; her arms pressing against my face as her breasts held against my collarbone. Her thighs tightened against either side of my hips, and my hands were sliding all over her body; her beautiful, firm shape. I felt like I was losing my mind at the touch of Angela. All of my nerves felt electric beneath my skin; every touch, every whisper illuminated by the neon light in so many more ways than one.

As we slid beneath the sheets of the motel’s bed, Angela’s hands rose up to grip to the headboard; my hand reaching down between her legs. I bit her bottom lip gently, her thighs tightening even harder against my own legs; her shins grazing my legs as we tossed and turned.

“I want you, Angela…” I growled into the crook of her neck, and I could feel the pressure of Angela’s body against my own, _begging_ for me to make her feel good, to help her forget all about the events of the day. “I want you all to myself, all the time…”

“Then take me,” Angela whispered, her hands letting go of the headboard above us, and sliding them against my face. “Have me.”

Her leg slipped between my own; a moan slipping out of my lips, sharp and quick from the sensation. I couldn’t help but grind down against it.

The cold silver of my pendant draped against Angela’s collarbone, and as I leant down to kiss her lips again; repressing the melodic sounds of Angela’s moans and pleas for more; I slipped my hand between her legs to fuck her just as hard as both of us needed.

“Ah!” she cried, almost immediately at my touch. I felt dizzy at the sensation of how wet she felt between her legs. “More!”

“Fuck, Angela!”

Fucking Angela made me delirious with joy; feeling her moans against my lips, the begging for more of my touch. I couldn’t stop. My arm burned with the familiar fatigue and ache of physical affection; the sheer joys of having intensely passionate sex with the person I loved.

I felt my legs tangled up with Angela’s beneath the sheets. I grunted and panted against her ear as she clung to my back, and; with one final push in between her legs; Angela let out a scream against my shoulder, and I felt her body shake and collapse beneath me in ecstasy. And as for me, it didn’t take much for me to come afterwards; as Angela’s tired hand reached between my legs, stroking my clit with unexpectedly languid circles. I came almost instantly.

My body fell against Angela gently; a mess of exhaustion and emotion aching through my muscles, and my brow sticky with the heat of lust. Moments went by, both of us undone, in pieces across the bedsheets, and Angela twirled the edge of my hair around her fingers.

She kissed at every inch of my face. I felt her breath touch my lips. I wanted to melt all over again.

“Fareeha…” she gasped, her lungs burning as she breathed in. “You…you really always do make me feel like this.”

I kissed her again. And again. And _again_ , until neither of us could catch our breaths properly, and had to lay in each other’s arms to restrain ourselves from doing it repeatedly before recovering. I stroked her back, and she lay; tightly and snug in my arms; kissing at my chin with soft, butterfly tender kisses that I never wanted to let go of.

“I love you.”

I looked down at the woman in my arms, and I fell even more in love.

“I love you too, Angela. I really do.”

Angela smiled up at me; her skin holding onto the gentle, ambient pinks and purples of the neon hues outside, streaming in through the blinds like an obscure sunlight. Her vanilla hair fell by her shoulders, and I rest my chin against it as she pressed her ear to my chest.

I felt her cheeks move into a smile.

“I can hear your heart beating.”

I chuckled, and stroked her hair gently.

“You’re gonna make me be even cornier one of these days and say something like it beats only for you.”

Angela’s blue eyes smiled at me in the darkness.

“Does it?” she asked, a gentle tone in her voice.

I paused, a little embarrassed; but after the trauma of remembering mortality today, it was hardly the right time to deny such an obvious confession.

“…What do you think?” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “You know the answer by now.”

Angela’s smile stayed against her beautiful face, and she pulled herself closer against me. I could feel the question in her throat rising, and the same one resting in the back of my mind too. I felt both of us tense up a little as we thought about it.

“Fareeha…” Angela began as I stroked her skin. “What do we do now?”

The gravity of the situation had been ignored all the way up until this moment; all the way. I didn’t want to think about it.

There was too _much_ to think about. Amelie, Moira, the awful pit that held the bodies of so many that had gone missing over the past few months. The experiments Moira had been conducting.

“I don’t know, Angela.”

The silence in the room was as gentle as the ambience; and I held Angela to my breast as tightly as I could. I knew that we would have to think about some kind of plan of action in the morning. We couldn’t stay here for more than one night – but I also didn’t want to be on the run forever.

I wanted to solve this. For Brigitte, for Reinhardt, for everyone I held dear. And damn it, I wanted a life with Angela Ziegler. I wanted to be with my friends and my companions. I knew, after this, I wanted a damn job change, at that. Maybe Angela and I could run our own little bar, I thought to myself. Get the hell away from this place, start over. Without her in my life, there was no sunlight. She had always been the star that illuminated every corner of my sky.

Dreams began to rise to my mind, and my eyes felt drowsy. I could feel that Angela was already falling asleep against me; exhausted by the sheer force of the last few days events, just like me. I felt my mind slipping into a daze. I knew we didn’t have much time to rest, which is exactly why every single second counted.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but think in the back of my mind, all over again, that Sombra seemed a little different the moment we set foot in this place.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We creep ever closer to the conclusion of this story, folks...
> 
> Enjoy!

After everything we had gone through; from the revelations to the car chase to the motel; my eyes flickered open to the electronic glare of the alarm clock.

As they adjusted, I began to register what time it really was.

Between the darkness of the wintry night-time outside and the neon still pouring in, I began to gradually accept fact; it was 6:17 AM.

“Ugh…”

_Too_ damn early to be awake on any given day – let alone after the days we’d been having. ‘We’ including _all_ of us, rather than just Angela and I. I knew it was hard on everyone involved, and it was only going to get worse before it got better. I just couldn’t quite anticipate how much worse.

Angela and I must have gotten about three hours sleep, if that; and it certainly felt like it. My eyes felt like sandpaper, and my throat burned with a raspy, uncomfortable sensation, raw from the heavy breaths I took pelting around town and the ending of the night. I stirred beneath the sheets, stretching awkwardly with a groan, and I reached to the side of me.

My hand felt around for a body, but all my palm got in return was cold sheets – and in turn a drowsily anxious churn of my stomach.

“Angela…?”

The most alarming thing besides the clock was the absence of Angela lying next to me.

“Angela?!” I repeated, this time loudly and with a panic.

“I’m in here, liebling!”

I shot upright as I said her name, and I felt a thankful, instant relief at hearing her call me from the bathroom.

“Thank God…” I mumbled into my hands.

With Moira O’Deorain and her band of ruthless teammates, _anything_ was possible, especially as I knew she had a confirmed interest in the woman of my dreams. I felt my stomach calm reluctantly.

Angela smiled affectionately as she walked back out; shoving her hair up into a high ponytail.

“Sorry if I worried you, love.” She apologetically spoke; the soft snap of her hair-tie clinging to the soft vanilla strands of her head, and walked back over to the creak of our motel bed. “I just couldn’t find it in me to fall back asleep.”

I ran a hand through my tussled hair, and placed a hand over hers; my other leaning over to switch on the bedside lamp.

“Yeah…I know the feeling.”

The room was illuminated by a dull, off-white amber of a cheap light that rest atop a faux porcelain base. Angela and I looked at each other, stroking the other’s knuckles with our thumbs, and I felt a chill come over my naked torso as I sat upwards.

Angela chuckled, noticing a chill run up my spine that even I hadn’t noticed, and kissed my cheek.

“You cold?” she asked, and before I could answer, replied to her own question. “Here. I put these on the radiator for you while you slept.”

Angela handed me the black sweater I wore from last night; stiff from the wet that had been absorbed, and warm from the heat. She grinned at me as I buried my face into it with a groan.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Well, I thought I might as well be useful.”

I looked at Angela, who looked away from me at that moment, almost pointedly. I grabbed her hand gently, and she stopped in her tracks.

“…Why do you keep saying that?” I asked.

“Saying what?” Angela replied coyly.

“Well, you don’t keep saying it outright, but the implication’s there. That you aren’t useful.”

She paused before me, as I looked at her sympathetically.

“I don’t really think that I’m not _useful_ ,” she replied with a sigh of frustration. “I just…wish I could help _more_ , I suppose. I don’t know how, just…more. The things we’ve all been through, the ways we’ve had to escape…you work so hard every single day, and I know how taxing this has been for you. Let alone everything that’s come after.”

I placed a hand over Angela’s even tighter, and looked into her ocean blue eyes all over again.

“You are everything I could ever ask for,” I replied, “every moment of every day.”

Angela smiled at me, and I could see the emotion crawl up her throat.

“And you are for me too, liebling.”

I continued to talk as I pulled my sweater over my head.

“You help by just _being_ there. Even before this, even before we finally admitted everything we felt to each other, you were and _are_ something I always look forward to, Angela. I could get through whole weeks just waiting to talk to you. You’re my angel, you know. You’re the only type of mercy I get from the cruel path to justice.”

Angela placed a hand on my face.

“Well, mercy and justice go hand in hand, luckily for us.”

“Damn right they do.”

Angela smiled brightly, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“You really are a great catch, you know?”

I chuckled. “I’m glad I can be.”

“You are. And that’s a fact.”

Angela stroked my cheek as she kissed my lips; a sensation that I had experienced so much in the last few days, and yet not nearly enough.

The edges of her lips tasted like a familiar mint from toothpaste, and we kissed for a little while, after that. These love-fuelled silences were quickly becoming the nectar that I craved every moment of the day, even moreso than before I’d been lucky enough to call Angela Ziegler my own in the first place.

We lay back down against the bed, our lips finally breaking apart slightly; and I held her in my arms as we spoke.

“I feel like we’re on the cusp of bringing this to an end,” Angela said softly, nestling gently against my chest, and looked in at me to what felt like the core of my soul. “All of this. You know?”

“…Mm. I’m in complete agreement, really.”

Angela’s brow furrowed in thought; her teeth gently grazing over the surface of her lip in contemplation.

“What did we find out overall, then? Let’s go over it one more time before we make our next move…whatever that is.”

I exhaled through my nostrils, and my eyes looked up at the ceiling as I held Angela; desperately trying to reach into the farthest parts of my mind to gather up everything.

“You’re right.”

“Just start at the beginning, and let’s work our way down.”

_Amelie Lacroix was being tested on for the sake of achieving immortality._ God, the notion seemed so ridiculous to even contemplate.

_Moira O’Deorain was the one in charge._ And unfortunately for her, Satya Vaswani seemed like an unwilling participant, but a participant none the less.

_The awful sewers were being clogged by the bodies of missing people from the past cases that had been popping up lately, and the police weren’t going to do anything about it without undeniable proof and safety for themselves._ Which meant that we couldn’t do anything about this legally – unless we had a friend in the police force that might be willing to help. I could think of one person…

_The Palace and Moira O’Deorain were the source of all of this – and they were definitely the ones that attacked Brigitte._ My blood boiled in particular remembering this.

There was nothing quite like seeing the hurt and anguish that was caused by the domino effect of tragedy. Death or severe injury to a person was often bad enough – but the people that it left behind were often almost just as bad off. Swallowed by grief, tormented by anxiety and mourning. I wanted to wring Moira’s neck.

I repeated everything back to Angela, who nodded along, and gradually, looked more and more disgusted.

“Ugh…I can’t believe I was ever involved with someone like this.”

“You didn’t know she’d turn out to be like this, Angela.”

She sighed and shook her head vigorously, with an equally as passionate nod to follow.

“I know…I know you’re right, Fareeha. We’ve more important things to think about.”

I stroked Angela’s back as we sat in the mixture of ambience, and she wrapped her hands around my waist. Brushes of her ponytail tickled at the edge of my cheek, and I couldn’t help but kiss her head; even in the middle of such a serious conversation.

“But this brings us back to the question; what do we do now?”

I bit my lip. I was drawing a total blank on things to do. I couldn’t figure out a safe way to combat the entirety of The Palace, and all of the powers that they had underneath their belt. I shook my head.

“I don’t kn -”

Mid-sentence, there was a knock at the door.

Angela and I looked at each other, alarmed by the action, before I deliberately deepened my voice.

“Uh, who is it?”

“Hey! Um, this is Lucio, the guy from up front?” a cheery voice said. “You have some visitors waiting out here. Quite a crowd!”

“ _Visitors_ …?” Angela repeated back to me, incredulous and frightened, and both of us felt our blood run cold.

Both of us were thinking the same thing – with it being ‘quite a crowd’, it certainly wasn’t Amelie or Sombra. They would have just come to our door themselves, without any kind of need for the man up front. No, this was someone more formidable, someone who would have had to of been actively searching for us to get here.

Somebody with an axe to grind.

I picked up my gun from the side desk, and loaded the little remaining bullets that I did have. Angela looked at me anxiously, knowing exactly what this meant. I might have to kill someone for us to survive.

I looked behind us at the window that led out onto the front drive; maybe we could get out that way and knock on Sombra and Amelie’s window before we escaped.

“Angela,” I whispered in a panic, “check the window behind us.”

Angela nodded quickly, and scarpered over to the back window; and, as her hands wound up the blinds that covered the glass, I heard her restrain a scream.

“Ah-!”

“Angela?!”

I turned around to see two women in black stood at our window, as Angela quickly drew the curtains again from their sight. The women were dressed in suits, conspicuously watching into our room. I’d wondered how long they’d been standing there, before I began to come to another haunting realization.

They _had_ found us.

“Shit!” Angela hissed, before there came a loud ruckus from behind our room’s door.

“Hey, you can’t just – _hey_!”

With a loud bang forwards, our door fell flat onto the dull, grey carpet of the motel room.

I stood, pistol pointed at the face I knew to expect – who grinned smugly back at me.

The baffled face of Lucio stood next to her, unsure of what to do in this situation. He looked at us apologetically. I grit my teeth as I faced the other people at his side.

“You _almost_ got away, didn’t you?” The woman said with a tone of triumph. “ _Almost_ being the operative word.”

Moira O’Deorain stood before us once more; her entourage roughly of about four or five people, and familiar faces present right at her side. Satya Vaswani, Jamison Fawkes, Mako Rutledge, and of course Gabriel Reyes. The only others around were the women in black; stoic, silent, and clad in suits.

I steadied my hand holding the pistol. Angela stood next to me; an angry scowl on her face as she stood in an equally as defensive stance. Jamison cackled with glee as he stood before us; his face grubby and dirty with bomb ash and grime.

“The game’s up now, Fareeha! Ahahaha!”

“Shut the hell up, Jamison!” I barked, and he made a flinching noise of discontent. Mako remained as silent as ever at his side, large and imposing; Gabriel folded his arms.

“This is kind of stupid, Moira,” he spoke up. “Why couldn’t you just let them go?”

I was surprised at his gruff tone. Moira chuckled.

“Because they know far too much for me to let them live, Gabriel. You know that.”

“But killing the daughter of Ana Amari…” Gabriel mumbled. “This doesn’t feel like your wisest option. Don’t you know who she is?”

“Don’t you know who _I_ am?” Moira retorted. “Be quiet. The very existence of the human race depends on me. Ana Amari is a washed-up has-been.”

Gabriel buttoned his lip with a resigned sigh, and I had to bite back an outraged scream. Angela could tell that the tensions were mounting at an alarming rate.

“How did you even find us this fast…?” She began to ask, bewildered. “You couldn’t possibly have had the resources to check everywhere this quickly!”

Moira stepped to the side.

“See for yourself,” she stated plainly, “I can’t possibly take _all_ the credit.”

Throughout this entire situation, I was confident in what I believed in. Trust was the foundation of all of this; believing that Amelie had a problem she couldn’t resolve, believing that Sombra had grown from her anger with me.  Behind Moira was a sight I never thought I would see.

“…I’m sorry, Fareeha.”

But instead, I was wrong. For all I knew, I had been wrong about so many things this entire time.

Behind Moira O’Deorain stood the sheepish, ashamed expressions of Sombra and Amelie Lacroix; and, to Amelie’s credit, the shame accompanied a very unimpressed with what her lover had obviously done. It was speaking a deafening blur of words without uttering a single one just to look at their faces. Time seemed to grind to a halt.

Had we been betrayed?

“Sombra…?” I spoke, my voice quivering, and the utterance of her name becoming more a plea than a confused question. “Please…tell me you didn’t…!”

Sombra remained in her stony silence. Amelie looked at me with an expression that I had seen written across her amber eyes before; a pure, unwavering apology. She didn’t want this, _any_ of this, and I knew it. I knew she didn’t. But my voice curled up and died in my throat, and I felt like crying out in sheer despair looking at the two of them.

Sombra held a silver suitcase in her hands; an equally as glinting pistol poking out of the corner of her jacket’s pocket. She must have brought along another gun and not announced it, or perhaps Moira had given her one, though I doubted that. My eyes widened in disbelief.

“You sold us out…?” Angela’s voice angrily trembled in disbelief. “You sold us _out_?!”

Sombra’s expression remained stoic, and it reminded me of any other time she was caught in the grey area of a situation.

“I…had no choice. I had no choice! Moira _has_ the cure! She -”

“Are you kidding?!” Angela shouted back. “You know we all could have achieved it together, you selfish, two-faced little -!”

“…This is all my fault.”

As Sombra’s eyes began to falter, all of our expressions turned to Amelie. Moira laughed to herself in the background.

“Don’t defend her, Amelie!” I interrupted, and scathingly looked at Sombra.

But Amelie looked back at me in turn with a look that I couldn’t read written in her eyes. A vacant expression; one that wasn’t filled with anything. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I couldn’t tell if she was even thinking anything. And I knew as I looked at the expression Sombra wore on her face that this wasn’t the woman that I once had affection for.

_Had_ she really been using us all this time…?

“But it is my fault,” she responded; a look of sudden, aching shame on her face. “I’m sorry, Miss Amari. I’m sorry, Miss Ziegler. But Moira _is_ the only one who can provide me with a cure for whatever I now face.”

“And you really felt as though we couldn’t break Moira for the cure?” I replied, looking at Sombra square in the eyes. “As though we couldn’t do it together?”

Sombra looked back at me as we stood in the dingy, amber lights of the motel’s lobby; wordless, but stalwart. I felt bitterly resentful.

Angela’s eyes flickered to the suitcase. “So _that’s_ what she’s holding.”

“That, and thirty-thousand dollars in cash for the reveal of your whereabouts,” Moira replied, and chuckled throatily. I felt a chill rise up my back, and I saw Sombra’s eyes close in disgrace. “Thank you, Sombra. It really _was_ a pleasure.”

Sombra neglected to say anything, but as she began to leave, her expression changed.

I felt a strange flicker of hope come alight in my stomach, before I realized that it was just another candle in the wind. Her back was turned to us, both emotionally and physically. We had lost.

Amelie Lacroix held her hand as they turned to leave; her arms stiff, her legs even stiffer, and the large, black suit-clad entourage that accompanied Moira began parting like the red sea.

“Allow them to leave,” Moira ordered, before pointedly adding, “we keep our word at The Palace, after all.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sombra replied, disinterested. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re quite welcome. Do take care, Lacroix. I wonder if we will meet again?”

Amelie’s amber eyes flickered once to my own, fluttering her eyelashes at me for a final time; that same expression as before in her eyes of one I couldn’t read; before she left.

As though they had never been with us at all, for all this time, they were gone. The door’s slam had never been more potent. I flinched.

I could hardly believe my eyes, or my ears, or any of my thoughts. Sombra and Amelie – despite the latter seeming very unwilling to do so – had betrayed us. They got us into the depths of this mess, and they had left Angela and me to die like dogs. I bit the inside of my lip so hard I could taste blood.

The rage in my stomach made me feel as though I could taste bile; but most of all, the thing I was hungry for now was revenge.

Moira’s eyes turned from a fiery smugness to a cold, reckless abandon.

“You two are in a _lot_ of trouble,” she said, before walking over to Angela; and grabbing her cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “Especially _you_ , Angela. How could you reward the doctor that fixed your parents up a little longer in such a way?”

Angela’s ocean eyes became a tempest looking into Moira’s, full of contempt, and Moira scoffed; shoving Angela’s face away as she turned.

“You’re pathetic,” she spat in disgust, turning to walk out of the building. “Satya, drive them back to The Palace with the girls here. We’ve a lot to talk about when they get there, so we have.”

“I don’t need escorts.”

Moira looked at Satya in surprise.

“…What?”

“I _said_ , I don’t need escorts.” Satya reaffirmed. “I can do this myself. And what of the other two?”

Moira looked curiously at Satya.

“Well, if you insist…I suppose I don’t doubt your capability. And I assume you refer to Sombra and Lacroix? Leave them. I am always a woman of my word, after all. We can find new subjects…and we can always kill Sombra and Lacroix later. They won’t squeal now that they have the cure.”

Satya raised an eyebrow. Angela scoffed, and Moira’s eyes flashed in rage.

“Honestly, and you have the nerve to call _me_ pathetic.”

“Uh, what’s going on here?” Lucio asked as he stood, bewildered, next to the large clan of people. “Are y’all booking a room, or…?”

Satya’s eyes flickered shut at Lucio’s optimism, before she turned to face me and Angela. Pulling out an unusually shaped pistol, and pointing it at our faces, she simply said,

“…Let’s go.”

Angela and I turned to face one another; wrapping our hands around each other, and I slipped the pistol back into my pocket.

Satya shook her head, and made a motion with her hand of ‘you’d better give me that, before I lodge a bullet in your brain’.

“Not so fast. Give me the gun.”

I felt my eyes close in exasperation as I handed over the only means of protection Angela and I had.

“Satya,” Moira called after her, “make sure you call me before you arrive. You have my permission to use the number of mine.”

“The direct line to you? My, I am honoured to have the privilege, ma’am.”

Moira laughed as Satya frogmarched us out of the motel; a direct number made me somehow more irritated towards Moira and her seemingly endless amount of resources.

“You should be,” I heard Moira reply as we were walked out of the motel; staying perfectly still as she paid off Lucio for his time.

-

The ride back to The Palace was long and arduous. I felt scorned, spurned like never before at the apparent betrayal of Sombra and Amelie Lacroix. Angela was silent at my side, but her hand never moved from mine.

The morning was beginning to break over the horizon. The night-time was fading into a purple haze of the past; illuminated by a rising, low-hung winter sun that was blinding to the naked eye even more than usual. Satya wordlessly drove us back through the town that we knew all too well, and along the motorway that we had so eagerly sped along last night. I felt as though I was in a twilight zone; a shadow of my former self.

Seemingly betrayed and fresh out of resources or lifelines, I felt like I was already dead. My head was spinning with vacant eyes residing inside my sockets, and Satya’s car, despite her gung-ho attitude at taking us in on her own, was surprisingly lax of security.

I knew that this was going to end with my arm pulling back on Satya’s neck.

I didn’t want to kill her - I had no intention to - but I was definitely going to at least choke her out for us to survive.

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Satya said out of the blue, almost as though she could read my mind from my glare, “or I’ll bite off your hand.”

I could feel next to me that Angela was getting lost in her own thoughts as well. I wanted so badly to kiss her again. To feel her in my arms, just one more time. If today was the day we were going to die, I wasn’t willing to go without having her against my body, warm in our embrace, one more time.

This was it. Angela and I had one more shot to save ourselves. If we could avoid this without violence, then I wanted to do that – no matter how ruthless Satya Vaswani was.

I looked at Angela, who looked at me in turn. Her oceans always soothed my own gaze.

“Satya.”

Angela spoke her name out into the open air to no response.

“Satya,” Angela began again, “what kind of leverage does Moira hold over you to make you stay like this?”

The difference was subtle, after Angela said those words. And to Angela, she probably noticed no difference; but I noticed in the rear-view mirror. A falter. A subtle one, but a falter all the same. Her eyelids fluttered.

Angela exhaled through her nose.

“When I first met Moira…”

“I didn’t ask for your story,” Satya interrupted sharply.

“…it was in a hospital.”

Satya fell quiet. Angela continued.

“She met me at…such a dark time in my life. And back then, she was so kind, so giving, always so willing to help me. I don’t think Moira is inherently evil, she’s just…”

“Ambitious,” Satya replied, which surprised both of us. “She’s ambitious.”

“She’s got something big over you, huh?” I chipped in. Satya began to get annoyed with this line of questioning, and in my line of experience, that usually meant you were scratching too close to the surface.

“Stop talking, or I’ll turn around and shoot you.”

“Is it family?”

Satya began to faltered further. She was losing her nerve.

“Stop.”

I continued.

“So it is family.”

“ _Stop_.”

“She’s gonna kill them anyway, no matter what you do.”

“STOP!”

Satya turned to face the two of us; the tyres of the car screeching, and a hurt, angry look in her eyes. Angela and I buttoned our lips. Satya was holding us over a cliff that was the brink of death, and she had all the power. All we had left were our voices to make anything change.

She exhaled; regaining control of the steering wheel, and pulling the car over along the motorway. I felt a chill up my spine at the idea of her turning around and putting a bullet in our brains.

Satya Vaswani didn’t turn around to look at us, not at first. Her slender hands gripped the leather of her steering wheel angrily, and I could see in the mirror that her jaw was clenched with frustration. She felt furious, as furious as Angela and I felt, but for a myriad of unspoken reasons. Reasons we would probably never know fully – but we could at the very least relate to a lot of what she was saying.

I decided to follow that traction.

“Satya, please…help us.”

“ _Help_ you?” Satya repeated back, and laughed at what I already knew was a long shot to begin with. “Nonsense. You think I would risk my job, and indeed my life for some idiots like _you_? You should never have come sniffing around.”

“Moira O’Deorain is dangerous,” I said, exasperated, “and without your help, she’s always going to be in power.”

“…I know you didn’t want to do the sewer thing.”

Satya turned around to face Angela, who was looking at her with an unshakeable resolve.

“What?”

“You hate it just as much as we do, don’t you?” Angela asked. “All of Moira’s experimentation. Whatever she’s been doing…you know that it’s not right. Just like us.”

Satya sighed.

“Look,” she began, “this wasn’t _my_ bright idea. Moira O’Deorain is a woman that wants to play god. And in a way, she is. She can create and destroy lives in the blink of an eye. Her work on genetics is unrivalled.”

“Is that what she’s been doing to Amelie?” I asked.

Satya weighed up the options in her mind; deciding whether or not it was wise to divulge any information to us on the subject of Moira. Eventually, the silence broke, and she made a decision in our favour. I couldn’t help but feel like we were resting a lot on our luck.

“Yes,” Satya replied. “I guess I can tell you, since she touched on it, and…well, you’re going to die later on anyway.”

Angela and I felt our blood run cold at the pointedness of such a blunt statement. I held her hand tighter.

“…What has she been doing?”

Satya faced us once more.

“Just what she said back at the sewer room. Moira has been chasing immortality.”

“What does someone need to achieve something like that?” Angela asked. “How is that even possible?”

“There are a number of factors needed for immortality. You need to make sure that the body doesn’t burn out, that your cells rejuvenate faster than the average human, and so on…I’m no doctor, but she’s explained it to me on more than one occasion. Moira developed the pills that she mentioned before…the Coalescence pills,” Satya said, as she veered back onto the road again. “But there was a catch, of course. Nothing good in this world is for free, dubious or otherwise. Coalescence drains your life force.”

Angela rubbed her head in confusion.

“It grants immortality…but it drains your life force? How can that be?”

Satya chuckled, but it was a chuckle of disapproval; one that was sardonic in nature, so thoroughly disapproving that the only thing she could do besides cry was laugh at it.

“To survive once you have ingested the blue pills – besides the one cure that Moira has developed herself – is that you have to drink the blood of other human beings. Something to do with the way the vitamins in others blood affects how you behave or something.”

I scoffed in disbelief.

“ _What_?”

“You mean like a _vampire_?” Angela asked, shocked at the revelation, and I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “I can’t really believe I’m asking this, but did Amelie ever drink any blood?”

“Yes, like a vampire,” Satya replied nonchalantly. “And no, she did not, but she came very close.”

“Do the pills bring out acts of violence? Vampires are monsters, right?”

Satya frowned with irritation.

“She is not _actually_ a vampire, so no. They don’t. The attack on your friend, Brigitte Lindholm, was it? That was unfortunate.”

This was my time to finally get to the bottom of this.

“Brigitte…” I began. “What exactly happened to her? And why?”

Satya shrugged.

“She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She overheard myself and Moira talking, so we had to stop her repeating what she heard.”

I grit my teeth.

Brigitte was almost killed over a determination to keep Moira’s reputation in tact?

“And honestly, Amelie Lacroix was _almost_ the perfect specimen. Moira always targeted people that felt as though they had nothing to live for, no reason to go on. And Amelie was like that, for a while. We tried so many times to convince her that she had hurt others. Blood on her dress, that sort of thing. It never worked how we planned.”

The hair prickled up on the back of my neck.

“Blood on her dress…?!”

“So that was staged!” Angela cried out. “She didn’t kill Reinhardt!”

“Reinhardt…?” Satya replied, confused. “Do you mean the engineer at Eichenwelders? No, that was one of our assassins. He was getting too involved in worrying over that woman.”

I felt my sympathy return at the thought of Amelie. I’d had my suspicions about this from the start, with the way she seemed genuine in her fear, genuine in her remorse; I also had my suspicions that Brigitte hadn’t done anything to provoke whoever hurt her from the off, too.

“Every night, it was plain to see how this was all affecting her,” Satya continued. “That woman drifted from song to song, like feathers falling through the sky. Eventually they’re going to hit the ground…and she would have, had it not been for Sombra.”

“…Sombra gave her meaning, huh.”

“Yes...” Satya replied. “I think Sombra saved her life.”

_How ironic,_ I thought, that Sombra spent her time saving Amelie but throwing Angela and I to the wolves.

“So there you have it.” Satya said with a resigned sigh. “Reinhardt had seen too much. Brigitte, too. Any other questions?”

Angela paused. I couldn’t think of anything else that I _wanted_ to know the answer to. The death of Reinhardt was definitely by someone at The Palace, but I was relieved to know it wasn’t by Amelie Lacroix. I chalked it up to one of Moira’s hit squads, and all the more reason for revenge.

But that assumption only further begged the question – what to do now?

As I was getting lost in my thoughts, Angela had one final, poignant question for Satya Vaswani.

“You…never told us why Moira’s able to keep you in the position that she’s able to. Under her thumb.”

Satya faltered again as she drove; the blinding sunlight flashing periodically out of the car windows and back in again. She sighed, clearly recalling something that I could see was visibly painful for her to live through. The sunlight flashed in our eyes as she began to spoke, with morning breaking in a wintry blast of light.

“…My mother is ill.” Satya spoke, and remained as stoic as she possibly could. The fact she was even answering Angela told me exactly how she felt, and by that, I entirely meant that she cared very much for her appearances. Even to us, she didn’t want us to think she was kept by something trivial. “Moira is currently helping her by paying for her to reside in the best type of hospital that there is. I can’t leave.”

There was a long silence after that.

Angela and I looked at each other as we sat next to each other; her blonde hair resting against my shoulder, and my dark hair intermingling with hers.

“You doing okay?” Angela whispered. I nodded against her head.

“As long as you are, I’ll be alright.”

Angela smiled sadly. “Always chivalrous, aren’t you?”

“We’re going to get out of this.” I told Angela firmly. “We are.”

“I know.” Angela replied with a nod.

“No talking,” Satya said bluntly, turning her head ever so slightly to face us.

Jarred by her declaration, it only brought me back to earth with a fierce bump of something that I knew was already teetering on the brink of destruction. I had to make a move now or never; we were coming up nearer and nearer to the main entrance to our town, and if I didn’t do something soon, we weren’t going to have the opportunity to at all.

I turned to look at Angela one more time, who looked at me; and I kissed her forehead. Angela blinked.

“…Fareeha?” she whispered. I smiled at her; a defiance to the world filling my heart like never before.

I was determined to survive. Determined to make this work with Angela.

Nobody was taking that away from either of us.

Like a shot, my arm quickly snaked its way around Satya’s neck, pulling back hard on her throat with a grunt from her lips. She veered the vehicle towards the side of the motorway; landing on a grassy verge at the right side of the road with a bump, as she struggled hard against my lock.

“I’m sorry, Satya-!” I said angrily, through the struggle. “But I can’t let you - take us back - just to die!”

“Fuck – you!”

She scrambled around for something in the side door of the car; a pocket knife glinted in the low hanging sun, and I let out a cry of pain as she sliced at my arm weakly; but for her, it wasn’t nearly enough to counter the strength of my force.

Satya Vaswani had passed out, and the knife fell from her hand back into the side door with a clatter. 

“Agh!” I shouted, and Angela desperately rummaged around in her pocket for a small roll of bandages that she’d managed to grab from the medical supplies last night. Her expression was dark; one of those that had been affected by a sudden wave of ugly violence, no matter how good my intentions were.

“Hold still, Fareeha, I need to wrap this up for you!”

I pulled my arm back with a painful wince; the blood dripping from my arm and onto my leg as I looked at Angela, who gently wrapped the materials around my excruciatingly painful arm. 

Her fingertips were gentle; a stark contrast to the harshness of our situation and all that it had held for us. They made quick work of the bandage wrapped around my arm in this crooked, abandoned car on the grassy verge of the motorway.

“…There," she breathed with relief. "Are you alright, liebling?”

I looked at her with a warm affection; surprised that she was still showing such concern even in the midst of these times.

“…I’m alright, sweetheart.” I said, shaking my head. "I'm alright."

Our eyes both fell on the unconscious frame of Satya Vaswani; and as Angela pressed two fingers to the pulse area of her neck, she sighed with relief once more.

"She's alive," Angela declared, and I felt a wash of relief come over me, in turn.

"Thank God."

"Alright."

I blinked as I watched Angela getting out of the car.

“Angela?”

“Come on, help me move Satya into the back seats. I don’t really feel right putting her in the boot of this car.”

I paused, before resignedly agreeing.

“No...me neither.”

I helped Angela move Satya’s unconscious body into the back seats, seatbelting her limp limbs safely up, before Angela slipped herself into the driver’s seat.

“Hey now…” I protested.

“Nope, you aren’t driving.” She replied, and slammed the door behind her. I hurried around to the other side of the car, slipping myself into the passenger seat with haste, and I looked at a newly-determined Angela before me. “What’s the plan?”

I looked at her with a warm smile, before laughing nervously to myself and leaning my head back.

“God, I don’t even know...”

Where the hell did we start?

“We’re sorting this out today,” Angela replied, a reaffirmed, inspiring tone to her voice, “we are.”

“…We are.”

“Are we going home first, or going straight to the source? We can only rely on ourselves now, Fareeha.”

We can only rely on ourselves…was that really true?

With the boundless possibility after Satya falling unconscious, we had a lot more resources at our disposal again…but not for too much longer.

Ideas were working around my head in motion. They were whizzing around like nothing else had over the last few days.

This was the last hurrah, the last time that we were going to be able to do anything – this was our Hail Mary into the moderately unknown territory of Moira O’Deorain. This was our last chance to seal the gates on this case once and for all. We had our culprit, we had our reasoning, and God knows we had our victims. The time to strike was now. Fear in my heart turned quickly into excitement at the thought of a life without this bullshit.

I clenched my fist as my mind flickered with flashes of inspiration.

“…I’ve got an idea,” I replied, and Angela looked at me with a coy smile.

“Are you going to share?”

“I think it’s better to keep you in the dark until we’re somewhere safer…” I replied, and turned to face Satya resting on the back seats behind us. “I want to drop Satya off somewhere first. I don’t really want her family to get into trouble, even if she’s…not the _loveliest_ person in the world.”

Angela smiled warmly at me, and kissed my cheek as her hands squeaked against the surface of the steering wheel; the leather comfortable against her grip.

“There's not going to be a safe place, liebling. You should just tell me."

I paused, before I nodded in a firm agreement; Angela was right. Nowhere was going to be safe now.

I folded my arm over my other, before wincing with a sharp intake of breath from the brush against my wound, and an affectionate fuss from Angela that followed. The plan was coming together in my mind, provided the resource that we needed the most was _here_. And in a manner of speaking, it was.

“…Alright. Okay, here’s the plan." I began. "We’re going to go back to our place. We’re going to get what kinds of resources that we can to help us. Weapons, phonecalls, whatever the hell. After that, we’re going to make one _specific_ phone call.”

Angela tilted her head against her shoulder slightly.

“One specific call?”

I nodded firmly, and said, “Emily Oxton”.

My one trusted member of the police – and also the head officer in charge.

Angela paused, her hands gripping to the steering wheel. I could see her mind ticking over; contemplating everything I had just shared with her in one large mess of thoughts. 

"...Got it," she finally replied, and I felt a strength slipping into my body that I had never experienced before.

Angela started up the engine once again; the screech of the tyres hard to manoeuvre out of the mud from the verge, before she floored the acceleration onto the motorway. I felt a rush of adrenaline, a renewed sense of faith coursing through my blood - because we'd decided.

We were going to end Moira O’Deorain once and for all – and, narrowly escaping death’s clutches yet again with Angela – I knew exactly how we were going to do it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Warning - and after this my friends, we'll be reaching the end! 
> 
> There will be one more chapter as well as an Epilogue. I'll be writing a bigger note at the end, probably on the Epilogue of this story as opposed to the next chapter. I can hardly believe it's coming to a head - Hope you all enjoy!

The sight of mine and Angela’s home coming into view all over again was such a welcome sight. I had experienced the sensation of loving coming home to Angela Ziegler before, but this felt like a whole new feeling in itself. The culmination of sensations from the warm memories in my heart, the place we first kissed, first made love, first met in the open air of springtime on her front door. It was the strangest, most nostalgic sensation, and it felt like a lifetime ago that all of this had begun. It was hard to wrap my head around everything.

I could hardly believe that just a few days ago, I was _technically_ single, fruitless on any leads, and both as frustrated as I was miserable. Now, I was filled to the brim with determination, had accepted my adoration for the woman that I loved so dearly, and – despite the circumstances – I was actually the most content I had ever been, and I had absolute confidence we were going to close this case.

Angela and I had dropped Satya off at the local hospital before stopping back home. We hadn’t wanted anything to happen to her or her mother, despite how ruthlessly she had pursued us to look better in front of Moira. But between the pressures of her business and the nature that had developed, it was plain to me to see that she wasn’t a bad person. Circumstantially, she had made bad decisions – but for some reason, I just couldn’t hold it against her.

As Angela and I stepped inside the bar, I couldn’t help but realize that I felt so _happy_. The happiest I had felt in a long time, even between the betrayals and all of the horrors of Seattle’s underworld. All of the while, I’d only been able to think of her. If I hadn’t had Angela, I knew that my mood would be vastly different compared to what it was now.

The ways she’d smile at me whilst she served others; the smell of her jasmine perfume, mingling along with her vanilla-scented hair; and the sight of her beauty always soothed my eyes. I watched her now, as she scarpered around the back of the bar, grabbing as many medical supplies as she could from the back room, with a grateful feeling in my heart; warm and cradling in its arms.

I loved Angela Ziegler. I loved her so much more than anything in the world, and there was nothing that could take that away from me. It was comforting to know that…and to know that I had grown so much into my own emotions.

I smiled as I looked at her, and she turned to face me with a smile of her own.

“I’m gonna head upstairs,” I told her as she rummaged around, “I’ve got a few things to grab myself.”

“Be careful, alright? We don’t know what’s lurking around here.”

I nodded in agreement.

 “I know. I will be. But it looks like the front door is still locked, right?”

Angela nodded as she looked up from her pile of bandages and medical supplies, running a hand through her feathered hair.

“I think so…” she began, and I watched a smile spread across her face. “Why are you looking at me like that, hm?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

I paused, before I laughed to myself; placing my hands on my hips before I looked back at Angela.

“Wow, I _wonder_ why?”

Angela chuckled.

“Well why don’t you come over here and do it? It’s definitely been too long since our last.”

I blinked at the forwardness of her statement, and Angela raised her eyebrows with a cheeky grin. I laughed to myself as I walked over to her, leaning down to kiss her on the lips; and I think both of us realized that was both the best decision _and_ the worst either of us could have made.

“…I’d better get upstairs…” I falsely told myself. Angela laughed, as she patted her hands against my shoulders.

“Mm. I think you better had, too.”

I chuckled, then groaned, and tried desperately to ignore the sudden stirring of longing and lust rattle around my mind all of a sudden.

“Quickly, quickly!” Angela jokingly called after me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hurried up the steps as fast as I could back to my apartment; and to the undisturbed, unknowing and adorable meow of Cady awaiting Angela’s return at the top of the table.

-

After a quick pet of a certain cat’s fuzzy head, licking its lips after an undoubtedly nice meal somewhere at someone else’s home, I entered my apartment in a blaze of fury. Nothing had been touched; it didn’t look as though anybody had been sent to trash the place. I couldn’t remember whether I had locked my apartment door or not – I was opting for not, given what had happened on my way out, thanks to Sombra’s little prank earlier on in the night – but I didn’t think much of it. Everything was fine and in order. That was what mattered.

I had a checklist in my mind of what to do. Grab ammunition, make any calls I needed to make, and get ready. One way or another, it was going to be a final confrontation between Moira and I – and I didn’t plan on dying.

“Phonecalls, phonecalls…” I repeated to myself in haste. I had a very clear idea of exactly what I was going to do. I knew who I was going to call, and just what I was going to say. I had it all planned out in my mind.

But then my phone began to ring.

I looked at it in almost a contemptuous glare; resentful that it had interrupted my thoughts so thoroughly of making calls on it myself. And after everything, I almost didn’t _want_ to pick it up in case it was one of the members of The Palace, testing to see if we had come back here for supplies. I knew better than to answer.

I waited until the phone rang out, and listened to the deafening calm of the silence that followed. I exhaled through my nostrils, looking around over my shoulder to make sure nobody was in this apartment with me; checking briefly inside my bathroom and bedroom. Satisfied with the results, I slumped down in my familiar, leather chair once more, and began to dial up the first number on my list.

Ingrid Lindholm.

I was surprised at the sudden sound that reached my ears.

“…Hello?” a familiar voice answered, in lightning time, much to the shocked blinks from my eyes.  Though this time, they sounded more…animated. More eager than I had heard them in months.

I felt a whirlwind of good fortune about to hit my ears. Could it be?

“Ingrid, it’s me, Fareeha. I -”

“Fareeha! Thank God!” Ingrid sighed into the phone, and I could hear that she was almost sounding like her old self.

I _prayed_ that this meant what I hoped it did.

“Ingrid…? What’s going on?”

“Fareeha, Brigitte woke up!”

I gasped; my heart leapt!

“Brigitte?!” I cried cheerfully. “She’s really awake?!”

“Yes, Fareeha! She woke up this morning! I’ve been trying to call you all this time, well, periodically, every half an hour, but I -”

“Ingrid, that’s fantastic news! Is she okay?! How is she doing?”

Ingrid caught her breath from her excitement over her reunited daughter, and I felt myself welling up with tears that were so happy I could have cried.

“She’s alright, she – well, she’s been -” Ingrid stammered, before sighing at herself. My eyes flickered with sympathy. “Sorry...it’s been busy.”

“Take your time.”

Ingrid took a breath before continuing. I could hear the shaking in her throat.

“She’s been drifting in and out of sleep. Her throat sounds so hoarse, poor thing!”

“Was she able to talk?” I asked.

“Yes, she was. Only a little…she doesn’t seem to remember anything from the time she was attacked though, so I’m afraid she’s not going to be of much use there, but…”

Ingrid paused.

“…Ingrid?”

“Wait, you weren’t even calling to find this out, were you?”

I laughed, my voice trembling with joy at hearing my best friend pulling through.

“That is all I could have ever hoped to hear from you. But you’re right. I actually wanted to call you with some big news of my own.”

“Oh?” she began, before gasping. “Did you find out who was responsible?!”

“Yes, I did. I’m actually on my way to…sort things out with them. It was someone being manipulated by a woman known as Moira O’Deorain. Do you know the name?”

“O’Deorain…” Ingrid repeated, her voice a wisp of contentedness at hearing the woman responsible for her daughter’s coma. “No, I haven’t. Who is she?”

“She’s the owner of The Palace.”

“The _Palace_! Now _that_ place I have heard of!” she replied, utterly stunned. “But what on Earth would a woman like that want with our Brigitte? She’s just a mechanic, for Heaven’s sake!”

“That’s just it, Ingrid. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’ve nothing to worry about, not anymore. She won’t be being harmed again…doubly so, if I have my way with this woman.”

Ingrid paused, and at the other end of the phone, I began to hear familiar sniffles all over again.

I felt myself getting choked up this time too, though – I couldn’t deny the wells of emotion that were bubbling up in my throat. All of this was coming to a close, no matter how dangerous the climax; and even with my hand over my mouth, my warm teardrops dripping against my skin, I felt my cheeks aching with the smile that came from knowing Brigitte was going to be okay.

“Thank you so much, Fareeha,” Ingrid replied, wiping her eyes, “for everything. I know it must have been so difficult for you, too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied through a choked sob. “You just take care of Brigitte, okay?”

“…That better not have been a warning to me of you being injured by whatever you’re planning on doing, Miss Amari. I’ll have your mother on the phone before you can even move!”

I laughed to myself at Ingrid’s motherly scolding, and I nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’ll do my very best to be fine. I certainly won’t be alone in taking down this awful place – and knowing Brigitte is still alive just makes this oncoming victory all the more sweet.”

Ingrid nodded against the phone. “Spoken like a true soldier, Fareeha. You be extra careful, alright? I don’t want to have to cry over you in the hospital next!”

I laughed again. “Don’t worry. You won’t.”

“Good. See you soon. Come by the hospital as soon as you can – Brigitte would love to see you.”

“I’ll do just that. Take care, Ingrid.”

“Goodbye, Fareeha.”

And with that, the phone was hung up at the other end.

I leant back in my seat; covering my face with my hands. The fatigue of the situation was settling in to my skin more than ever now, and the happiness of a situation resolved so wonderfully made me feel like I was making all of the right steps. Angela and I had gotten here together; we’d made it through all of the bullshit and come out the other side. Brigitte was awake, and Moira O’Deorain didn’t quite have us in her grasp just yet.

Despite everything, I even prayed that Amelie made it out safe. I didn’t know how to feel about Sombra. I settled for pity and disdain.

“Second phonecall,” I mumbled to myself.

I called my mother, and told her to get herself someplace safe for the next week. The phone rang twice before she answered. I barely had a chance to greet her before the questions began.

“…Fareeha,” she asked, after assessing my voice. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you all about it properly afterwards, but in short, I’m mixed up in something pretty bad, and you need to get somewhere safe.”

“Fareeha Amari, you tell me what is going on right now!”

“Mom…”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Tell me.”

I paused, and – after taking a deep breath – explained the situation to her as best as I could. My mother exhaled with a breath of concern against the receiver of her phone, before I heard her rubbing her temples.

“…You better come back in one piece, you understand me?” she replied, and for the first time in a long time, I heard the tremble of emotion in her voice. “You better.”

“I will.”

“…Good.”

My mother hung up.

I knew why she had done that.

I closed my eyes; ignoring the sting of emotion that pressed behind my own eyeballs; before I made my last and final call. My only beacon of hope for any back-up in our foray into The Palace’s unloving arms. If this person wasn’t willing to help us, then it was all over.

It all hinged on this call.

The phone rang for a long time before somebody finally picked up.

“…Hello? Commanding Officer Oxton speaking.”

“Emily? It’s me.”

“Fareeha…?” Emily replied, surprised. “What’s going on?”

After a long, in depth conversation with Emily Oxton and all of the resources she had to offer, my plan was finally coming to fruition. I had explained the situation thoroughly to her; the details of the crimes, what was really going on at The Palace; all of which she was utterly horrified.

“What the hell?” she said in an utter disbelief. She paused for a moment, and I could practically hear the frowning from beneath her red locks. “And you swear you aren’t just pulling my leg?”

“I swear it on my _life_ , Emily. The Palace has bodies in the sewers. She claimed to have a lot over your officers, which is why nobody has made a move.”

“Blackmail of an _officer_? That in itself is enough to arrest her, let alone the rest!” Emily scoffed, and I thanked my lucky stars that she was so passionate about her occupation. She paused for a moment, and I heard her fingers tussle through her hair. “Fareeha…”

“…Yes?”

“You promise me? That you really aren’t just playing some stupid joke on me, are you? Did Lena put you up to this?”

I shook my head as I spoke.

“I swear to you, Emily. This is real and happening. People…people really have died.”

Emily paused again, this time for longer; before I almost heard the fire spark up in her heart.

“Then I’d say this warrants mobilizing my best squadron…wouldn’t you?”

I breathed again; and smiled with a relief that I had never quite felt before.

“I really can’t tell you how grateful I am about this, Emily.”

“…Blackmailing an officer, kidnap, torture, imprisonment against the subject’s will, human experimentation…god, and who knows what else. I’m sure there’s some kind of narcotics charge in there too, somewhere. Let’s get her once and for all.”

I clapped my hands together.

“Let’s do it.”

“Fareeha.” Emily started suddenly. “Make sure you come armed to the teeth, if this woman really is as dangerous as you say she is. I’m sure she’ll have people waiting for us, so…make sure you shoot to kill.”

I paused, nodding solemnly.

“I know.”

“…Good. Then I’ll see you there in three hours. Make sure you come prepared, and I’ll mobilize a squadron. I’ll brief them on what you’ve told me – and remember, we’re going _strictly_ off of your knowledge. I trust you. If I really do find that this is for some kind of personal gain, I won’t hesitate to arrest you myself.”

“Believe me, I know you mean business, Emily.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Emily replied with a smile. “Fine. See you later.”

“See you.”

-

With all three phonecalls made, ammunition grabbed from my apartment, and Angela safely still downstairs as I returned to her, we were all ready to take on The Palace in our own way.

“All set?” Angela asked me, laden down with medical supplies in two bags; the straps hanging off of both of her slender shoulders. I smiled.

“As we’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Angela nodded back to me.

“I’m glad. What did Emily say on the phone?”

My mind was in a complete daze. Even though I’d just finished talking to Emily, I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend. I felt so relieved, so overjoyed that she had finally started to recover; and it made me even more determined to bring this horrible incident to an end.

“She’s getting a squadron together,” I began, before I ran my hands over my face. “Angela, Brigitte woke up!”

Angela looked at me in surprise with a gasp, and placed her hands on her mouth.

“Oh, Fareeha! That’s fantastic news!”

“I know!” I replied in my enthusiasm, grabbing her hands with a gleeful grip.

Both of us paused as the words echoed off of the walls of the bar, and I hadn’t realized just how content I felt amidst all of the chaos going on around us.

I was content. I was _happy_. Just to be able to be with Angela Ziegler made my whole world complete, no matter what the circumstances were. Her hands reached out to touch my face; her signature, welcome familiar stroke brushing against the bottom of my tattoo. I melted into her touch.

I pressed the palm of her hand gently, warmly against the side of my face; my eyes flickering closed as I felt her against me. Her other arm snaked its way around my waist, pulling me into a close embrace, with her face burying itself into my neck. I held her tightly, tighter than I ever had.

“I love you, Fareeha. I really, really love you.”

My heart melted into the sunshine that Angela brought with her voice.

“I love you, too.”

“…How much time do we have?” Angela asked, and smiled at me. “I want to be able to be with you like this for as long as possible.”

I grinned back at her, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“We’ve got time. I don’t think anybody’s going to be coming here. Not now.”

“It’s too late now, isn’t it…” Angela began, her voice a little higher than a whisper. “For them and for us.”

Our noses touched, and our lips were just centimetres apart.

I could feel the touch of her breath against my own lips, the heat that hummed off of her skin in my presence. I ran my hands through her hair as I tilted her head back, my lips brushing against hers; and I felt my eyes flicker shut.

“Let me drown in you.”

-

For the next two hours that we had, Angela and I made the very most of our time. In the middle of her closed bar; of the bar that we knew so well, had gotten to know each other so intimately, so deeply that my heart had been intricately carved into one that fit the palm of her hand perfectly.

My lips kissed at her own hungrily; tenderly. I felt her moan just a little against me as my hands ran themselves up the skin of her back, warmly caressing her; her lips moving from my own to kiss at my neck slowly.

“Ah…” I breathed. A shiver shot through my body of delight. Angela noticed immediately.

“Shall we take this upstairs…?” She asked, smiling into the press of her kisses against my neck. I lulled my head backwards; snapping it upwards at her question.

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

“As if I could keep myself away from you, liebling.”

We stumbled up the stairs in a mess of adoration. My hands rest against the back of Angela’s bra, and her hands were bunched up in my hair tightly; falling back against the stairway’s wall as we kissed, panting for breath and begging for more.

We stumbled backwards through my apartment door; a mess of clothes and heat and lust. I tore at Angela’s shirt needily, begging with my hands; and I half kicked off my trousers as we fell back onto my bed. A moan slipped from my lips, prompting Angela to kiss me even harder, more passionately…even more lustily than moments before.

Angela’s body pressed against my skin, and I felt my head spinning. Her breasts grazed my own, and the palms of my hands couldn’t stop themselves rubbing up and down her back, grabbing at her ass and thighs and bunching up in her hair as she grinded between my thighs. Breathless, I gasped; her hand reaching in between my legs, and slipping her thumb against my lips.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful…”

I didn’t say anything; but opted to kiss the tip of her thumb as Angela made love to me.

I felt like I was in complete ecstasy. My hands gripped to her, only letting go to wildly reach for my headboard’s poles to grip onto as she fucked me, once more before all of this with Moira was over. The insatiable, unquenchable desire for each other; our intense lust; still ever present throughout all of this. I couldn’t bear to not have her hands on me. I had to have more. I _needed_ more. And Angela was prepared to give me all of her that I could handle.

Her hands were experienced with my body. They already knew every curve, every scar that my skin held from my time in the army, scrapes, aches; her hands were soothing to the touch, and I wanted every second to last even longer than the last. Our lips were sloppy and wet from the kisses, aching and tingling from all the sensations culminating together. My legs tightened as my thighs ached around her hips. Angela grunted and gasped as she fucked me. I felt delirious.

“Angela…!”

“Fuck, Fareeha!”

“Ah!”

My hands bunched up in her hair; my fingers entangling themselves in the blonde against me as I let out a scream of pleasure. I let out a scream from what I knew was the best orgasm I’d experienced in my entire life, and; as Angela’s chest beat its heart hard against my skin, I exhaled.

My breath ruffled Angela’s hair against her ear; breathing deeply against her.

I rolled her onto her back lazily; our naked bodies pressing between each other.

“Angela…” I breathed, barely with any time to recover, and kissed down her body slowly. Angela blushed at my kisses; my lips rolling over her breasts, her midriff, down her hips and in between her legs. I just couldn’t stop.

“Fareeha…please…” Angela begged, making my head spin as much as between my legs ached all over again, and pushed down gently against my head. I felt instantly more turned on than I had just moments ago.

I pulled Angela’s thighs over my shoulders; her legs draped against my back. My tongue rolled against her clit; sucking and licking as much as I felt her twitching. Her nails dug into my scalp with pleasure, and my tongue slipped up and down, licking up the wetness that I had caused between her legs. Her clit throbbed against my lips, and I could tell that she was going to come.

“Come on, baby...”

“Nnh!”

Angela came within seconds of me saying that; stiffly clinging to the bedsheets as she orgasmed, and I felt her thighs go slack against my shoulders.

“Fuck!” she exhaled.

I chuckled as I dabbed at the edges of my lips.

“…Did that take the edge off?”

"That took _everything_ off."

Angela laughed, breathless and sticky as her legs rest against my shoulders, and I slipped my body back up in between hers; Angela’s hands groping around my skin even more as I kissed back at her lips.

We made out for a long time in my bed. Between the sheets, the dull breeze of my ceiling fan gently cooling our skin, and the sensation of each other’s skin against one another? It was like heaven in a bottle. My own perfect bubble. I felt as though the traumas of the week passed and the oncoming onslaught of who knew what was the farthest thing from my mind.

Angela was all there was, and all that there would be. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment. She was everything.

But I knew – and we both knew - that these moments couldn’t last forever.

“…Should we start getting ready?” Angela asked me, as hesitantly as I felt; her blonde hair messy and down against my pillow. I nodded reluctantly; the sting of the slices in my arm twitching even more from the fatigue of all that Angela and I had gotten upto.

“Let’s get this horrible thing over and done with, Angela.”

“…You’re right. Let’s put an end to this…and then come back and kiss me forever.”

I laughed.

“Yes, please.”

-

I checked the clock. It had been two and a half hours since Emily called. They would all be on their way to The Palace now.

Angela and I got dressed as fast as we got undressed; we had prepared ourselves more than adequately for the journey to The Palace, both physically and mentally, and I felt nervous butterflies in my stomach. I felt as though we were walking directly into the mouth of the lion’s den, and really, we _were_. We had nothing more than ourselves to trust completely, especially after what had happened with Sombra. I still felt the burn of her betrayal resting in the back of my mind.

Angela was a vision in black; her turtle-neck sweater concealing the marks that I had left all over her neck just moments ago. We laughed playfully, pretending that we weren’t getting ready to potentially go to our deaths. I swallowed a hard, invisible lump down my dry throat as we walked down the stairs.

Angela’s car was still locked up in the bar’s garage, just next door to us. I was glad that Angela had a car as mine was still going to be abandoned, nearer to where The Palace was, useless in my time of need of escaping from that god-awful basement what seemed like a lifetime ago now. She was ready, and so was I.

“Let’s go.” I said, and Angela nodded; her medical supplies hanging loosely off of one shoulder in a bigger bag from my apartment now.

The wind outside felt more bitter than it ever had done before. Nothing could compare with a wind so ominous, so foreboding in its atmosphere, that you couldn’t deny the potential for death.

I felt terrified.

The blood drained from my face as Angela started up the engine; both of us silent and unwilling to admit such a thing into the already dense surroundings. After what had been the most intense, most wonderful sensation of having my hands all over my lover, I was maybe about to lose her to somebody that I didn’t think fit to even know my name. I felt angry, but I also felt determined. After all, Angela could not only protect herself; but she also wasn’t in any danger just yet.

I knew that I had to calm myself down. _Remember my training from the army. Remember my roots. Don’t let the danger affect you – you affect the danger._

“We’re almost there now,” Angela finally spoke into the ambience, and breathed a long breath from her lips. “I hope everything goes well.”

“…I’m sure it will, sweetheart. We’ve got pretty much all of the police that Emily could round up who were willing to go against Moira and her band of idiots.”

Angela nodded, but I could see that she was nervous to the very core of her being. I couldn’t blame her.

“Fareeha, can I ask you something?” she said, as we sped past the all too familiar autumnal reds and yellows of the season. The trees themselves were growing dark; brittle to the touch. The leaves were beginning to die on the sidewalks in the cold of the world at large.

I looked at Angela’s apprehensive expression as she drove.

“Of course.”

“Do you think we’ll have to kill anyone today?”

I paused. I was expecting a question like this.

“…I can’t answer that honestly, Angela. I hope not, but I don’t know.”

Angela remained stationary for a moment, before she nodded.

“Yeah...I hope not, either.”

The rest of the ride to The Palace was in silence. As we began to drive up the familiar hill – the hill that I felt like we had traversed far too many times lately – I began to notice something very interesting about the landscape ahead. Something was off. 

“Fareeha, look…” Angela began, in bewilderment at the sight before her. “What...what does that mean? Why did they...?”

The Palace was, as always, resting as the eyesore atop the hill; but it was completely blacked out. There was no neon signs – no light to be seen at all. The lightbulbs were all off for the first time in I didn't even know how  long. I felt the churn in my stomach whirring; this was really happening. 

“What the hell…?” I said, leaning forwards in my seat anxiously. “This can’t be good…”

“God, I hope Emily is there with everyone already.”

Angela pressed her foot to the gas harder, the looming threat of danger ever more visible with our approach; and after not two minutes more, we made it to The Palace for the final time.


	18. Chapter 18

As we pulled up to the front of The Palace, the sight before us was one that I not only felt as though I couldn’t believe; but one that my eyes were entirely unfamiliar with.

The front of The Palace; the most extravagant place in all of this wretched town; was completely barren.

There was no Jamison Fawkes, and his strangely creepy scarecrow mask; no silent Mako to be seen; no patrons, no lit-up, gaudy neon signs. The cars that were parked outside were what we used to refer to as ‘plain clothes’ cars – cars with no sirens, no indication that they were police-involved whatsoever.

I began to see that, near to one of the cars resting idly along the sidewalk, the presence of a much more welcome sight emerging from a discreetly parked black van.

A certain redhead – the tell-tale hair of Emily Oxton, who had now become a beacon of hope to Angela and I – was standing before a gaggle of her finest policemen and women alike. She slipped her hands into her pockets as she walked, her blue uniform standing out amidst the grey uniforms of the people in her command, and her golden badge was glinting beneath the frosty sun above. I watched in awe at the amount of people she’d rallied up, who were now walking briskly behind the repetitive flap of her trenchcoat.

She turned to see the source of our car’s engine noise behind her, as Angela and I pulled in next to the van in question. Her eyes widened, and she quickly beckoned to us; hands now resting against the two guns in her holsters; and I knew something serious must be even more wrong than Angela and I had anticipated.

“Brace yourself,” I mumbled to Angela as we took off our seatbelts.

“Don’t worry,” Angela said, a steely determination lacing her voice, “I’m ready for whatever’s to come.”

Our car doors swung open, and Emily immediately called over to us.

“Fareeha! Angela!” She shouted. “We appear to have gotten a real situation on our hands.”

The wind was a bitter, biting cold once more; each breeze lashing at our faces like miniscule cold chains against the skin. I looked at Emily nervously; and her determined eyes looked back at Angela and I, examining our capability for the final stand against Moira O’Deorain.

“Thanks for this, Emily.” I said into the tenseness of the atmosphere. She nodded, and folded her arms with a cocked eyebrow.

“You feel prepared for this?”

“More than anything,” Angela replied, and Emily nodded to Angela.

“Glad to hear it. Allow me to explain the situation, then.”

Emily Oxton – a woman of distinguished capability, and of high moral upstanding in the community – was actually _nervous_ about where we were walking into tonight. I could see her hands wringing themselves around each other, and her jaw clench in frustration. I felt rocks drop into my stomach.

“As I’m sure you can see, the front door appears to be double locked,” Emily stated bluntly. “There doesn’t seem to be any other way in.”

If Moira was expecting Satya, why would she lock the front doors? It had been a few hours since then, though…

“The basement doors?” I asked hopefully. “They’re around the corner from the building.”

Emily shook her head. My heart sank.

“Already tried that. They’re locked beyond any kind of reasonable capability.”

I furrowed my brow. Where else was there to unlock…? If we couldn’t get in easily, this was about to become infinitely harder.

“Ugh…” I groaned.

The one person who would have known how to help left us in the dust. I grit my teeth.

Emily ran a hand through her hair.

“The only way is up,” she replied, and chuckled nervously.

Angela and I exchanged a confused look with the woman before us; smirking against a handsome face with a gleeful expression. I tilted my head to the side.

“Up?”

“You heard me, Amari. The only way is up. And that’s _not_ just an inspirational quote.”

Emily threw Angela and I a pair of ropes, with a large, metal hook attached to the ends of the fabric.

“…Uh, what?”

“We’re going to have to kick in a window.”

Angela scoffed.

“What?!” Angela asked, and laughed. “Are we capable of doing something like that?”

“Yes. Believe in yourself, and you can do anything.”

Angela blinked, and nodded quickly.

“Wow, you _are_ inspirational, Miss Oxton!”

Emily blushed a little, and I smirked at her. She cleared her throat.

“ _Anyway_ ,” she began pointedly, clicking her fingers, “it’s better if we just show you. Jesse?”

A man stepped forward with a dark poncho swept over his shoulders; a cigar in his mouth that he spat to the side rather crudely, before he smiled at us with a sense of vigour and confidence that none of us could deny.

“Watch and learn,” he said, and began to swing the hook at an increasingly rapid pace at his side.

With a few more swings, he let it go into the air with a fast whoosh through; cutting through the upwards wind, and landing with a small, distant ker-thunk against the concrete of the switched off neon sign.

He tugged on it twice, before nodding.

“Alright, ma’am. Seems to be steady enough. Should I begin?”

“Yeah, test it out.”

The cowboy-like man pulled twice again on the rope, before he began scaling upwards against the wall.

“Wow!” Angela exclaimed in awe. “Fareeha, have you ever had the experience in doing something like that?”

I shook my head, impressed with the way the man was scaling up the building at such a rapid pace.

“I can’t say I have, no. But I guess there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

Emily laughed. “Glad you have the attitude for that, Amari.”

I grinned at her.

“Hey, guess who woke up today?”

Emily looked at me with surprised, relieved eyes; knowing full well just the woman I meant. But after catching herself in her relief, she rolled her eyes, and chuckled.

“Wow,” she began, as Jesse continued to climb. “Did she wake up just to make another pass at my wife?”

“Surely, that was what brought her back in the first place.”

Emily chuckled again, before sighing as we looked at the man from before continuing to scale upwards.

“…In all seriousness, I’m really glad she’s alright. She sounded like she took a nasty blow to the back of her head…last thing we need is more deaths in this city.”

The man known as Jesse had reached a window beneath the neon window’s sign, and peered inside.

“How’s it looking, Jesse?” Emily called up.

“Looks clear, ma’am.” He yelled back. “Should I break it?”

“Yeah. We’ll follow suit now.” Emily said, shoving large ropes with grappling hooks attached to the ends of them into our hands. “You guys ready?”

After the very brief, non-training introduction to what looked like a hook on a piece of _string_ , it was almost unbelievable that this was the only way to get into The Palace, and the only way to finally get revenge on Moira O’Deorain for everything that had been going wrong in this town.

My hands coiled around the hard rope that rest on my palms.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Angela and I tied the ropes around our waists, and began swinging the hooks round and round until we built up a strong momentum; swinging it up high against the neon sign, and catching the edges with ease as we pulled ourselves up.

“Ready, Angela?” I asked. Angela nodded with a nervous grin on her face, and we began to pull ourselves up against the building.

“Nice and steady, ladies.” Emily said cautiously, and we both took on board her words silently.

With the shatter of glass up the top, and the grunt of Jesse as he entered inside the window, Angela and I were making our way up as silently as we could. The concentration we needed was incredible to scale a _wall_ , in broad daylight no less, along with the denial of the potential fall that we could incur. I was the first to make it to the shattered glass on the ledge of the window; peering inside to see nothing more than an old records room, probably full of documented money and bills and who knew what else.

Angela made it second, but fumbled with her rope slightly as she let go to come inside.

“Grab my hand, Angela!” I said quickly; a justified anxiety settling into my bones.

“O…okay!”

Angela’s free hand slapped itself against my own, holding onto my wrist as I pulled her in. She landed with a thud against the floor, medical bag knocking against her behind, before she dusted herself off.

“Whew!” She gasped. “That was…”

“Exhilarating, ain’t it?” Jesse replied; lighting up another cigar from beneath his cowboy hat. I looked at him with a tilted expression.

“Uh, sure?”

“Yep.”

I shook my head as he puffed away, and took a look around whilst we waited for Emily and the others to come in.

I listened as hard as I could for any other kind of sounds in the building. I could hear nothing. No noise, no casino beeps, no clinks of the coins against the metal…nothing. Something was seriously wrong.

Emily came through the window; and just as she did, softly on her feet, Angela and I heard a much louder bang from in front of us – we had been discovered!

“Get down!” Jesse cried, and kicked one of the tables up; as the door was blasted down!

“Shit!” I exclaimed, grabbing Angela and a table upwards to protect us. “How did they manage to sneak their way up like that?!”

Emily was the one to pull back on her gun first; the loud, unwelcome bangs of the guns going off around us reverberating in our ears.

“Angela, grab your gun!” I shouted over the blare of bullets; loading the bullets into my pistol from my holster. Angela nodded, shoving the ammunition into the gun that she had stuffed as a last resort into her medical bag, and hid behind the table with me.

“Got it!”

“ _Fire_!” Emily shouted, and all of us began to shoot in a fiery blaze at the people before us.

“Ack!”

“Gah!”

The bullets began to reach the assailants at the door, and the thud of the bodies began to fall against the muffling carpet outside. I couldn’t see much in the haze before us; the sudden burst of adrenaline and anxiety swirling around in my mind at the loss of me, the loss of Angela or Emily or even Jesse, a man that I had just met. I didn’t want any of us to die.

The gunfire began to die down. The smoke began to clear; and the other police that were on the ground outside began to make their way up to the top.

“All clear?” Emily asked Jesse.

“All clear, ma’am. Four cadavers at the door, one survivor, unarmed.”

Angela and I stood up; both of us with eyes wide at the sight before us.

There were four dead bodies before us; all dressed in black, in what looked like riot gear, guns discarded against the floor behind them; the hallway lit up by the bulbs outside, and the carpet looking as though it were a red velvet. I couldn’t tell if that was the colour it had started out as or not.

The survivor groaned in pain; clutching his arm as he backed up against the wall. Emily was the first to storm out from behind the desk, and walk into the hall.

“You. State your name.”

“Fuck you!”

Emily turned to face me.

“Excuse me here, Fareeha.”

Emily kicked the man in the head, his helmet flying off, and who also let out a yelp of anger as she grabbed his face. Her nails dug into either side of his cheeks, and I could see that he was furious as he was in pain. Emily snarled.

“You and your asshole friends just tried to kill us, and you didn’t succeed. So forgive me if I want to get a little violent in taking care of you.”

The man breathed heavily, but didn’t speak a word.

“What is your fucking name,” Emily said slowly, “and who do you fucking work for?”

“You don’t need…to know my name…” the man chuckled; his breathing raspy and hard. “But you…will meet the woman I work for soon enough…”

“Who is it? O’Deorain?”

“Yes…” the man spluttered, blood flecking out against the dark surface of his vest. “She’s…she’s waiting for Vaswani…up the top…”

Emily patted the head of the survivor before her, and shoved him away from her in disgust.

“Good boy,” she said patronizingly, before she stood up to face us. “Guess we know where we need to go.”

“Providing we can actually trust this guy.” Jesse chipped in, looking at the man before him in a deeply unimpressed stupor, and I heard the other police members land in the room with us.

“God, what happened here?” one of them asked. “We heard gunshots!”

Emily sighed.

“Just thugs, as usual. Let’s move on.”

-

Moving on into the hallway of The Palace, something that had surprised me was that the hallways were… _small_. They reminded me a lot of the newer-type of cruise ships that had begun sailing after the war, travelling long distances in their splendour and their interior; the walls a lavish white, decorated with pictures of accomplishments that The Palace had to offer – newspaper clippings, certificates, and so on – and the floor beneath our feet was indeed a red velvet, with golden trimmings along the sides. We walked cautiously down the hallways, guns at our sides and waiting for anything to pop out at us.

“Stairway here,” Emily called from slightly further ahead, and we moved up gradually from floor to floor throughout the building. I was surprised further still at just how big this place was when we had already thrown a grapple hook up to quite a considerable distance as it was.

“Not many guards for someone who burst in the moment we set foot, huh?” Jesse said into the air.

“Mm…” Emily replied, curious. “I was thinking that. Where could they all be? That can’t have been everything she had to offer…especially if she knows we’re here.”

The silence that followed was full of words unspoken, and I could translate them all. I knew that was going to definitely mean trouble in the last room where Moira would be.

“Where is she…” Angela asked nervously, biting her lip. I squeezed her hand warmly.

“…We must be getting close now…”

I was feeling more and more nervous myself as the time went on. We got into a couple more scrapes; a scream and a gunshot were all it took to rectify the situation. Emily took down a few of the guards that were awaiting at the edges of the staircase, a clean shot through both of their heads that alarmed both Angela and myself. We were beginning to see, the more we spent time at Emily’s side, just why she was the Commanding Chief officer.

“You know, Fareeha,” Emily began; our lungs beginning to burn from the amount of stairs we were having to climb. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About my officers being blackmailed.”

“Oh?”

“And you know what I thought?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“If anyone tried to blackmail me, or tried to hurt Lena as a result of that,” she began, and her eyes suddenly appeared to get darker. “I would probably just kill them.”

Emily Oxton was definitely someone I was glad to have on _my_ side.

As we got up the last set of stairs of The Palace, we were confronted by a large, ornate-looking set of double doors. Everything in The Palace looked lavish, but this was a whole other ballpark of rich. The doors were a perfect set of alabaster; with patterns interwoven in gold and cobalt blue trimmings of ivy growing up the doors. The intricacies were remarkable. I was stunned.

“This must be the place,” was all I could manage to stammer out. Even the door handle’s had celtic symbolism etched into their metals.

“It’s got to be…” Angela replied, and I could hear the tremble in both of our voices.

Angela and I paused; our hands held together like glue once more, as I turned to face her. Our eyes always talked of their own accord, whispering words through glances and adoring gazes that nobody else could quite read like we could. Mine were an endless cacophony of _I love you_ , and _if anything happens in there, I’m sorry._

She smiled at me the very same; the twinge of sadness ripping apart my insides. I had no idea what awaited us inside here, but I knew two things – one, this _was_ the end, and two, it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.

Emily and I were the ones who placed our hands on the door’s handles. The celtic symbols felt as though their ridges burned into our palms, and I felt Angela and Jesse providing back cover for the moments we looked away. Emily and I were looking at each other with growing concern as we opened the door; and, as we twisted the doorknobs to the right, swinging the large doors open, we saw Moira O’Deorain; sat behind a large, oak desk; waiting, with several guards littered around the room. I knew she’d known we were here. I felt my jaw clench at the sight of her smug expression.

“I was wondering if you’d bring friends, Angela.” She replied, the same smile that I’d grown to know well written all over her face. “I suppose I should relieve Satya of her duties…if she couldn’t even manage to escort you here.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re concerned about? Firing someone that you already kept over blackmailing them?” Angela retorted, and scoffed. “You’re pathetic!”

The entourage of several police members raised their guns; pointing them at Moira from a distance. Moira chuckled; raising a slender hand, and we watched as her own entourage also pointed their guns right back, hidden beneath their dark helmets, and pointing their pistols.

“Not another step forward,” Moira stated, and I grit my teeth in frustration.

“…shit…!”

The room that Moira was in was large, overly so, for something that had so little held in it. Nothing more than a few plants dotted around each corner of the room, and ornament cases with things glittering inside; large, unflattering windows rest behind her, and allowed far too much of the day’s light in as it flooded through the glass. Her seat was probably the most luxurious thing in here, though; as compared with mine, hers looked like it was made from a rich, velvet red material.

Moira herself looked further dapper than before. She was in a white suit now; a black shirt with an undone collar, and her lips were pursed and thin as she smiled. She had been expecting us, but had obviously not been sure in which way. She chuckled.

“You’re all pointing guns at _me_ , but whatever for?” she asked coyly. “I haven’t got any weapons on me. Look at these people around me.”

Emily faltered, and so did the rest of the police that she had brought with her.

“What have you been doing here, O’Deorain?” she asked. “Is it true about human experimentation? The sewers? All of that?”

Moira shrugged.

“So what if it is?”

Emily blinked, incredulous at Moira’s unconcerned attitude.

“So what if…? So what if it _is_?!”

“Yes. What are you going to do about it, Oxton?” Moira asked, disinterested. “Shouldn’t you be getting home to your wife before something happens to her? I heard she did have a very nasty accident that warped her sense of time. Doesn’t she need you now more than ever, these days?”

I had known Emily Oxton for a very long time. I had known her even before I met Brigitte, certainly before I met Sombra, and I knew her very well. But this was the first time in all of my recollection that I could remember her actively being _livid_ at somebody before her.

Her eyes flashed with a burning, shaking rage; a sense of alarm that made her limbs quiver with discomfort at how much information Moira knew of her life.

“What did you just say to me?” Emily said coldly.

“I said that you should be at _home_ with your -”

Emily fired a warning shot that grazed past Moira’s cheek; Angela gasped, and so did I. Emily seethed. The lackeys of Moira’s in the background raised their guns with a click; Moira held up her hand to stop them.

“You’d better think long and fucking hard before you say anything _stupid_ again, O’Deorain.”

“Ma’am, don’t let her goad you…” Jesse whispered anxiously, fully aware of the semi-automatics staring him in the face. Emily clicked her tongue.

Moira laughed to herself.

“Well, not that _you_ matter. You’re just small potatoes, aren’t you?” she replied, and ran a hand through her hair. She rest the other hand in her tuxedo’s pocket.

“Why did you do it, Moira?” I asked, into the open space of the room - my gun still firmly glued in her direction. “What the hell was it all for?”

“ _Greatness_!” she replied, tilting her head slightly to the side, almost as though she just couldn’t believe someone was asking something so stupid. “It’s not a crime to want to achieve that, is it?”

“No, but it is a crime to test out drugs on debt-endowed, unwilling participants and then watch them die in the sewers of The Palace!” Angela retorted. “How could you, Moira? What the hell happened to you? What happened to the Moira I knew?”

“What are you talking about, pet?” Moira replied, a gentler tone in her voice that somehow sounded much more ominous. “This has always been the Moira you’ve known.”

“But you killed those people! How could you do something like that?”

“Angela, darling. I keep _telling_ you. I didn’t kill anyone. They just reacted badly to the pills that we made.”

Angela shook her head in frustration. “How can you not see that that’s the same thing?!”

Wilful ignorance or not, there was a long pause between us all then. Moira and I locked gazes; determined that one of us was going to be either in handcuffs or dead before we’d leave here. I wanted her to pay for the crimes she had committed under the law, as justice for everyone involved; but she wanted to kill me.

I raised my gun steadier. My gaze narrowed over the bandage on my arm; Moira looking at me with the same contemptuous glare I held for her in turn.

“Moira O’Deorain,” I announced, determined to end this farcical incident, “you are under arrest.”

Moira looked at me, before tilting her head back and laughing loudly. She placed a hand against her forehead, shaking it in disbelief. I had been keeping an eye out on the one that was in her pocket, just in case she was double bluffing – but she also did seem like a woman of her word, given that she let Sombra and Amelie go. I was surprised about that even now.

“I’m under arrest? On what grounds?”

Emily was the one to scoff then.

“I think literally almost everything to do with murder and human experimentation,” she retorted, her gun also pointed at Moira once more. The lodge of her bullet from the warning shot before rest in the large windows behind, as she continued with, “but I can list them off for you if you really want.”

Moira chuckled, before she pulled out a small, orange bottle from her pocket. I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

Moira didn’t say anything, not at first; but instead, she tipped the contents of the bottle into her mouth with a rattle. The plastic of the container was crushed in her hand before it was discarded, and she grinned at us all – a manic, unrestrained smile now creeping across her face.

“This…is my _will_.”

Moira let out a groan of pain after she said that; everybody that was with us now slightly more alarmed, more ready to shoot to kill, as we watched Moira writhing in front of us. She clutched at her stomach, her eyes squeezed shut from the pain she was feeling; falling to her knees in a dramatic display of unease.

“Pills…” Angela whispered, and both of us felt anxious at the thought of just what that could mean.

“Did she just overdose?” Emily asked into the silence. I felt my mouth dry with nerves.

“Emily, I – I don’t think -”

“Ma’am, she’s crippled over!” Jesse shouted.

Emily, devoid of sympathy for someone who had threatened the one she loved, didn’t move her gaze from Moira’s display even for a second.

“…Arrest her, Jesse.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

The man with the cowboy hat tipped it slightly and sighed anxiously to himself; twirling around a pair of handcuffs on his gloved finger.

“Well…” he began, “here goes nothin’.”

As he walked over to Moira’s position on the floor, leaning down to handcuff her, we were all shocked by what happened next.

Jesse McCree was launched high into the air with a huge blow to the stomach; screaming out in pain as his back smacked into the wall with a fierce bump.

“Augh!”

The wall cracked beneath the force of the blow, and Moira stood; a shell of her former self, and looking just as terrifying now as we had imagined.

“You’ll all pay for invading my Palace!” she yelled, and her voice sounded off, distorted. “Kill them all!”

Emily locked her gun into place, and barked her next orders - I certainly wasn’t one to not oblige this one. We all grabbed tables, chairs, whatever we could grab to serve as cover for the onslaught of ammunition being shot at us. This was it – someone was leaving here in a wooden box.

“Fire! Shoot to kill! _Shoot_!”

There were ricocheting noises of the bullets against the walls; loud bangs and harsh noise against the sound. Moira was moving at an incredible speed, and both Angela and I could have sworn that her eyes were changing to a narrow, deep red.

“What the hell is going on?!” Angela cried; as I grabbed one of the tiny tables that held up the plant-pot in the corner to protect us. We ducked behind it as I leaned up to fire, my gun making a clicking sound as it ran out of ammunition. I fumbled around in my pockets for more as Moira moved.

“We’re running out of time!”

Angela and I furrowed our brow; Moira rushing at each member of the police and harming them, grabbing them by the throat and throwing them around the room. Cries of pain came with the bullet wounds shooting up their skin, gorily choking the insides out of them.

“More!” she cried, as she knelt down against one of them; the gory action of tearing at their neck oozing blood onto her fingers. “Your power will be _mine_!”

The blood – it was making her stronger. It was plain to see that soon, we wouldn’t be able to contain her. We really were running out of time.

She began to make her way over to Jesse, as he lay unconscious on the floor – her speed unlike that of anything else on earth.

“Quickly! Fire!” Emily repeated, increasingly frantic at her sudden lack of ammunition. “What the hell kind of pills did she take?! We weren’t prepared for something like this!”

“They were sub-human _enhancers_ , you fucking idiot!” Moira retorted, turning around just before she made it to Jesse’s body; her voice sounding less like the smooth Irish silk that it once was, and now as though it had been put through a ringer. “You are all lesser beings! Inferior to me! Idiot mortals who are too afraid to step out of society’s view of the uncontroversial! You are all weaklings with vices you can’t quench!”

At that moment; as I slammed my arm over the desk, Angela firing at my side; I managed to get a lucky hit against her shoulder.

“Fuck you!”

“Augh!” she cried, as she turned with a venomous whip of her head towards me. “ _You_! This is all your fault!”

She ran at me with an almost otherworldly speed – grabbing me by the lapels of my shirt, and slamming me against the wall. I gripped to her wrists angrily, my gaze not breaking with her for even a second as she banged my body hard back into the concrete, and laughed in my face. Angela gasped, pointing her gun with a shaky, unsteady hand at Moira.

“Fareeha!”

“This is all your fault!” Moira hissed, her voice full of venom and rage. My teeth clenched, and the urge to headbutt her was growing stronger by the second. “How does it feel, being betrayed by your friends? Knowing that you’ve _lost_ this before you even _start_?!”

“Stop firing!” Emily shouted, frantically. “Stop! You might hit Amari!”

Angela’s unsteady hand shook against her gun; her eyes brimming with tears of frustration and anxiety.

“Shit!” she hissed. “Moira, let her go!”

“Angela…” I grunted through my chokehold, and Moira laughed. I let out a sharp cry of pain as one of her sharp nails dragged against my neck; blood beginning to dribble out, hot and warm against my skin, and her eyes widened in delight.

“Thank you for your _valuable_ contribution,” she grinned, and – as she leaned in to sink her teeth into my skin – we all turned to hear a huge, resounding bang behind us.

“What?!” Moira shouted over the sudden breach of noise. “What is…?!”

The glass had shattered from Moira’s large, overcompensating windows, and the roar of what sounded like a helicopter began to scream into view. The wind was whipping up against all of us; our hair roaring in our faces like multicolour additions to a blaze, and the papers, ornaments and who knew what else in this room was being cast aside like trash. All of Moira’s guards were dead or unconscious, as well as some of our own. I felt the horrid weight of guilt momentarily crushing me alongside Moira’s hands.

But with the descent of the vehicle outside, I began to see a familiar, purple-dressed figure in the helicopter; along with someone else at her side. Could it be…?

It was!

“ _Sombra_!” I cried in disbelief.

I watched as she screamed something at us over the loud rip of the helicopter; I could barely hear a word she was saying. I could barely believe she was here – and how the hell did she get a helicopter?

“Colomar!” Moira seethed, as she dropped me and began running towards the newly-formed entrance.

“Not so fast!”

I lunged at Moira’s legs before she could build up any momentum in attacking the vehicle that was coming to our rescue.

“Agh!”

Moira tried to kick me, but I kept a firm grasp on her legs. She scratched at my head, and I punched her in the stomach; she made a noise of pain, before she punched me in the side of my cheek; knocking me back with the taste of iron in my mouth.

“Fuck!”

“Quickly!” Emily screamed at the remaining police members. “Arrest her! Arrest her _now_!”

The remaining policemen and women who were able to get to their feet ran from their cover at Moira, their guns loaded; but Moira stood, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, knocking them all back into the ground, the walls, and the atmosphere around her.

I raised my gun, and fired three shots. I was horrified as I watched her narrowly dodge them all. I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck!”

“Try _again_ , Amari!” Moira goaded. “You’ll never be able to get me! You haven’t achieved greatness like me! There is nobody else on my level!”

I shot two more times to no avail. I tried desperately to hit her, terrified that one of my missed shots would ricochet off of the walls or the ornaments and hit somebody I care about – and then came the shock.

Moira O’Deorain suddenly let out a cry of pain, and collapsed to her knees; and I saw just what had made her do that.

She now had two holes in her skin – one in her shoulder, and on in her thigh.

I looked down at my gun – I had ran out of ammunition two shots ago. The shot wasn’t from me.

I turned to Angela, who looked as stunned as I did – the shot wasn’t from her, either.

“What…?!” Moira exclaimed, frothing at the mouth as she clung to her gushing thigh.

We both turned to the helicopter – and to Amelie Lacroix, who stood at the edge of the doorway, holding a large rifle in her hands. I realized then why she achieved the shot – from the sheer fact that she had taken the pills that Moira had, as well.

She leapt down off of the helicopter – rifle still in hand, and her boots clicking against the marble flooring. Her expression still looked as gaunt and haunted as before, her hair messy in its ponytail, along with the amber eyes glinting in the sunlight. But her glare wasn’t one of menacing evil, no – it was one of triumph. They had come back for us. They knew where to come for us. And they had saved our lives.

The helicopter raised from the opening in the window – probably to go to the helipad, if I had to make an educated guess. The silence began to settle into a deafening blanket. Amelie walked over towards Moira’s body.

“Bullets…really can change everything…” she mumbled to herself, catching her breath.

“You saved us, Amelie!” Angela cried in disbelief, and Amelie looked at Angela with a bashful expression.

Moira’s lips parted to reveal a splutter of blood as she fell to her knees before me; her head turning slightly to the right to face the woman who had ended her life. I could tell from the way that she was writhing that it wasn’t just the bullets that had done her in; the pills were proving to be too much for her, too.

It was a poetic type of justice, really – for months Moira had manipulated Amelie Lacroix’s life for her own personal gain, and in the end, that was exactly her downfall.

“You…could have been wonderful…” Moira spluttered out – the same, smug grin written on her face. “I could…have…”

“No,” Amelie replied, swinging her rifle up against her shoulder. “I _am_ wonderful.”

Moira paused, and laughed to herself; gritting her teeth in pain. I could see how dizzy she was beginning to feel.

“Pure class,” she finished, and; as her eyes began to fade into their previous colours, we watched as the consciousness left her face.

I panted with disbelief. I was bleeding all over, and I could see that I wasn’t the only one. Angela’s face was scratched from a bullet, her trousers slightly torn at the bottom edges; Jesse’s nose was bloodied, whilst Emily’s hands were raw from the physical defence she had been putting up against guards that she had snuck up behind in the commotion. The other police members that had survived were slightly worse for wear, but they were glad to be alive. There was a solemn air at the sadness and sombreness of losing their comrades that followed.

I closed my eyes as I breathed; we had captured Moira O’Deorain. It was all over.

“…Are you alright?”

I turned to face the beautiful, now empowered figure of Amelie Lacroix; a woman who had regained her independence, turned the abuse she had endured on its head, and come out of the other end far stronger than when she had unwittingly entered. She offered her hand to Angela and I; helping me to my feet first, and then Angela.

“We’re alright, I think.” Angela said for us, as I began to regain my composure. The helicopter’s winds were whipping up our hair into our faces; the sting of a cold breeze licking at my wounds. “God, Amelie, what are you _doing_ here? What happened?”

She smiled at us; a serene smile across her dark lips. She threw the rifle behind her away from the crowd, and Emily, Jesse and the others gathered around.

“We were always coming back for you two. Pour tromper vos ennemis, vous devez d'abord tromper vos amis. We knew you would be coming here…Sombra contacted your mother.”

“My mother!” I exclaimed as I laughed breathlessly, as Angela’s arm wrapped around my waist. “And enlighten me to what that means, please. Does it mean something along the lines of, ‘give your friends a heart attack’?”

Amelie chuckled, and closed her eyes as she folded her arms.

“Something like that. It means that you must fool your friends to fool your enemies.”

“Consider me completely and utterly fooled.” I replied, and shook my head. “Did she give you the cure?”

“I think so,” Amelie said. “I have some effects lingering, but…it is a strange sensation. It is as though all of my feelings from the pills…they are leaving. It is draining away from my body.”

Emily sighed wearily, and spoke loudly over the noise.

“God, as much as I hate to admit it, you really saved us there, miss. I think we’d of been a goner if you hadn’t come on in.”

Amelie smiled.

“After everything Miss Amari has done to help me, and now everybody here, it was really the very least I could do…for us, and myself.”

I looked around the room at the mess that this onslaught had brought, and I could barely stand it.

“…Can we get out of here?” I asked, and Angela’s nose brushed my unharmed cheek.

“Let’s get going, liebling.”

“Yeah. I’ll sort this mess out,” Emily began, walking over to Moira and slipping handcuffs around her wrists. “I’ll write it all up in the morning.”

I nodded in relief, as did Angela at my side.

“Thank God…” she said. “Now Moira can finally pay for her crimes. All of them.”

I turned my expression to the unconscious, powerful woman at our feet; clamped in handcuffs, deliriously unconscious and vulnerable for the first time in who knew how long; and frowned with a satisfied discontent.

“…Justice…is done.”

The noise of the helicopter faded upwards; and the sanity began to return to my mind.

“Come on,” Amelie stated, and walked towards the exit of the ornate doors behind us, “Sombra’s probably waiting on the helipad on the roof now.”

Amelie was the first to open Moira’s front door; storming up the stairs with the sheer delight in her heart of being _free_. Free from the shackles of another’s bad intentions, free from everything she had gone through at long last, and by her own hand at that. Through Sombra’s cunning, her determination and all of our courage, we had done it – and all of us had miraculously survived.

I pulled Angela close to me, weakly, as Emily and Jesse walked on ahead; frogmarching Moira’s limp body out of the room, and silently mourning the loss of a few of their comrades to each other. I kissed Angela on the lips gently; our sore bodies and brushing noses coming together.

She smiled into the kiss as we stood outside of the door, and stroked my good cheek with her thumb.

“It’s finally over,” she stated, and for the first time, I realized that she was right. It _was_ finally, finally over. I could hardly believe it myself.

Amelie kicked open the fire exit at the top of the building, and as the bitter winds that I had grown so accustomed to licked at the wounds of all of our skins, I saw Sombra; standing there with the smile that I knew so well plastered all over her face, like she’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank; run to both Angela and I with open arms.

Sombra wasn’t the kind of person who ever indulged in hugs. She certainly wasn’t a cuddler, I knew that much – but this time, she wrapped her arms around Angela, Amelie and I, and hugged us all tighter than I could ever remember her holding me on my own, let alone three of us. Her face buried in between Amelie and myself’s, holding us all tight. I felt the emotion ripple behind my eyes, and I could hear Amelie quietly sobbing with relief.

Angela grinned at me over Sombra’s shoulder, a twinkle of emotion in her eyes; and Sombra’s voice trembled as she said,

“Now, _that_ was my best stealth yet, wouldn’t you say?” she grinned. “Stolen helicopter included.”

I chuckled, as the four of us leant back into our collaborative embrace; and said with a sense of satisfaction I’ll never probably experience in my life again,

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it everyone. This is the last update for Evening Shadows. Writing a fic this in-depth for me was such a pleasure, and especially about one of my favourite pairings with so many of my favourite characters from Overwatch as a whole.
> 
> I wanted to write a little note here because of this being the last update, but also to sincerely thank you all. I want to, with all of my heart, thank the people who left kudos, comments, people who recommended it, people who even just thought "hey this is pretty good!" and so on. It's thanks to people like you guys that I can feel inspired and proud of my work. Thank you so much, and I hope you know how much your support has meant to me.
> 
> I hope you all have a fantastic Pride month, wherever you are; and if you want to follow me on Tumblr or Twitter, then you can find more details at the end. Have a wonderful time, everyone, and thank you so much again for all of your love <3

It has been six months since we finally brought down Moira O’Deorain.

As I found out, a lot can change in just a week; and naturally, this made for a very interesting few months to follow.  

After everything, I quit my job as a private investigator.

I now run the bar with Angela, and it’s fun, getting to chat with the people we care for, listening to the jubilant themes of the neon jukebox. It’s actually _fun_. But we’re thinking about relocating to somewhere quieter. Somewhere more picturesque. Somewhere that can be a haven for just the two of us…and maybe start a new life altogether out there.

The best reward after all of this, however?

God, it really is like heaven getting to wake up to her every morning.

 _Every_ morning has been a treasure. Always full of moments I don’t want to let go of. The scents of Angela’s vanilla hair tickling my nose from her laying on my chest; the way the soft sunlight of spring rests against my eyelids, almost soothingly, massaging my senses to bring me back to the real world. Sometimes when I wake up, I wonder if I’m dreaming. There’s not a word in the English language to describe the euphoria I feel when I realize I’m not.

After everything with Moira, it was a blessing to feel safe in our own home again. _Our_ home. Alive and safe and…slightly battered, if nothing else. After everything, we made a point of closing up the bar for nearly a week to re-decorate and breathe new life into this place – somehow, it felt as though we were clearing away all the bad that had happened there with a new dusting of luxury. My mom even came over to scald me for being so reckless, and it was one of the first times in my life I’ve ever seen her grow misty-eyed. It was a relief to see her smile after, and even further still when she grabbed a paintbrush rather boldly to help.

I worked alongside Angela in the bar, and I sold off my apartment next door to hers. I always did prefer Angela’s place anyway, and now we’ve got a little extra money to play around with. Our neighbours are pretty nice; an upbeat, positive woman called Orisa, and her daughter, Efi. I’ve heard Efi talking to her friends on the doorstep of this place before, and that kid is smarter than me, Emily, Brigitte and Sombra put together. She’s going places, and it’s nice to be able to get along with new folks at the drop of a hat.

I know full well that I want to ask Angela to marry me. Her warm smiles with her lips and eyes tell me every day how much she loves me…and I do my best to show her that I feel the very same. It’s her birthday pretty soon, and I know just what I’m gonna do for it.

Secondly, Brigitte _did_ wake up, just as Ingrid had said; and visiting her in the hospital, I found myself sprinting down the hallways to find her.

I knew the hospital was big, but there was nothing like someone you cared for being stuck in a hospital bed that made you want to pelt down to them faster. When I arrived at the door, I skidded to a halt; catching my breath, and meeting her familiarly cheeky expression almost goadingly.

“Did I have you worried?” Brigitte croaked out, though I could see from her expression that she was relieved to see me. I couldn’t help but feel the emotion rising up in my throat, and I grinned back at her; knowing full well that my eyes were too watery for me to maintain my usually calm composure. I was grounded in a reality of the drip needle taped into her hand, and the sharp twang of the anaesthetic smell from the hospital halls. 

“You idiot,” I said with a laugh, and caught myself before I started crying.

We hugged for a long time. It was so nice to feel her alive again; to feel the warmth of my best friend return to the world once more. In true Brigitte fashion, she called me a sap and poked my shoulder gently, and the two of us found ourselves laughing as though nothing had changed. She said that she’d missed me, even in her coma. That she felt empty inside. I’d missed my best friend, too.

It took Brigitte a little while to get back on her feet – both literally and figuratively. When I wasn’t with Angela, I was usually either with Brigitte on my own at her walking rehabilitation, or sitting with Ingrid and Torbjorn as she slept. We all kept a watchful eye on her – even though she had woken up, the blow to the head had done quite some damage, enough to keep her in a coma for a few weeks – and none of us were prepared to let it happen again.

The day she was released from hospital was certainly one of the happiest days of all of our lives, and it relieved me to know that Brigitte Lindholm was going to be just fine; and now a permanent fixture in life once more.

“All patched up, right?” Brigitte boasted, flexing her arms weakly. “God, I need to get back down to the gym. I can barely lift a plate these days.”

I patted her shoulder as she stood in the crisp spring air for the first time in months; and watched as her teeth chattered. I chuckled.

“You’ll toughen up again, don’t worry.” I said. “This city does that to people.”

“Judging from what you’ve been through Fareeha, let alone my own experience…I know that to be true. I still can’t believe it.”

I felt a melancholy in my heart, at that moment. I felt for Reinhardt, for all the pain that the victims of the experiments must have gone through; but all we could do was exactly what we did do. We fought. We didn’t run from the truth.

We got the justice that they all deserved; and that we all deserved, too.

And on that note - thirdly, in fact – after everything that went on with The Palace, Moira O’Deorain was indicted to life imprisonment.

Angela and I had both mutually agreed that we were expecting there to be a massive media swarm around the case. After all, for someone as high-profile as Moira O’Deorain; simultaneously the owner of The Palace, and running her own hospital alongside that achievement; there begged to be questions about public safety, for one thing. But much to our surprise, it was a very discreet affair. I figured that the government probably didn’t want to shake the public’s faith in the police force, nor in the medical fields of availability to them. Especially not after the war.

Emily Oxton and her wife, Lena, turned up on our doorstep the day after the events transpired. With them, they had brought an odd mixture of a grave-but-relieved expression written on their faces, along with two very well decorated police officers. Even with Emily’s high ranking, I could see that these were her bosses; which meant that these questions were not going to be easy.

But luckily, they weren’t anything out of the ordinary. We sat them all down, Angela poured them all drinks of their choice, and it was a mostly informal chat. They informed us that Satya Vaswani was awake in hospital, and apparently had become overwhelmed with emotion at hearing the arrest of Moira O’Deorain. They couldn’t tell whether it was the good kind or the bad. I was just relieved to hear that she was alive and safe.

Then the probing began. What did you see down there? Would you say they had been dead long? How many bodies were there?

It was a stifling line of questioning. I felt my blood running cold, and the air around me suddenly become very heavy and humid with a horrid anxiety I couldn’t shake. But with Angela’s hand resting atop my own, and the jukebox playing softly in the background, I felt as though I could answer clearly; and in the end, the police officials were satisfied with what they had gotten.

“They’ll be deploying a search team to The Palace now, Fareeha,” Emily said quietly, as they began to walk away. “This should be the end of your involvement in all of this.”

I blinked, almost as though I hadn’t been expecting her to say that sentence.

“What?”

“Yeah. After this, we’re done with this case. It’s up to them to set the court case…and to interview Moira.”

I looked at her, surprised. “Aren’t you going to question her?”

Emily paused, before a wry smile came across her face. I noticed her grip on Lena’s hand tighten a little as they stood in our doorway.

“If I had to interview her after what she said to me,” Emily began, “I’d have a lot more to say to her than with just my lips.”

I chuckled.

“Actions speaking louder than words, is it?”

“Sometimes someone just needs a good smack upside the head.”

After that meeting, the court case quickly followed. There was a private jury; sworn to secrecy over what had happened, which surprised me further; along with myself, Angela, Emily, Brigitte…the faces of all that Moira had affected.

Even as she sat up in the court’s dock, she still didn’t look apologetic. I could tell that if anything, this had just strengthened her resolve that unconventional methods did not mean evil behaviour. And in a way, it was true – unconventionality is not bad by any means. Sometimes, and very often, a person does have to think outside the box. But harming people for the sake of your own personal glory? It made me want to shake Moira by the shoulders. I wish she could have seen what she was doing wrong.

Angela and Moira didn’t lose eye contact for almost the entire time in the courtroom. I noticed Angela’s disbelief; her shock, her pure horror, at seeing a woman she used to be so intimate with sitting before her in such a capacity. And in turn, Moira could not believe the bar that now separated them was one of the law. I put my arm around Angela very pointedly throughout the court’s hearing.

“Do you have anything left to say?” The judge said sternly; turning her head towards Moira.

“No.”

“…Then, Moira O’Deorain, I sentence you to life imprisonment.”

We later found that she and her lawyer had plea-bargained her out of a seat on Death Row.

Where Sombra and Amelie Lacroix were concerned, they, too, changed dramatically in the last few months. In fact, they didn’t stick around for too long after the incident.

After a week or so had gone by, Sombra and I knew subconsciously that we needed to talk. After all, Angela and I had felt as though we were abandoned by them at the worst possible time; even though we knew that wasn’t the case, it was something I still needed to hear Sombra say. When I met her, I knew it was something she needed to say, too.

Angela and I made the trip to their apartment. We buzzed several times for the clerk, to no avail; before eventually waiting for someone to open the door on their way out, and making our own way in.

“Which one is it…?” Angela asked me, hand warmly slipped into my own, and pressing her finger to her chin. “All these doors look the same.”

I paused as I scanned each name on the doors. Eventually, Colomar was reached; and I knocked three times.

No answer at first. Then, I began to hear noises behind the door; and then I felt a chuckle rising up in my throat.

“What’re you laughing about, hm?” Angela asked with a wry grin.

“Sounds like Sombra’s in trouble…”

“…ever clean up after yourself! Juste parce que vous êtes bon au lit, ne pensez pas que vous pouvez être paresseux!”

“Aww, can’t I make it up to y – ow!”

“Clean up after yourself!”

“Uh,” I called from behind the door, “you guys okay?”

“Oh!” Both women replied, and I heard the fast pattering of feet towards the door.

Sombra swung it open with the same, familiarly smug grin that I knew well, and I couldn’t help but smile in turn. Angela grinned at both Sombra and Amelie, who had momentarily given up her attempt to get Sombra to clean up her copious amounts of whiskey bottles and cigarettes, and hurried to the door.

“Thought you’d never show up. Thanks for saving me.”

“You aren’t saved!” Amelie replied indignantly. I laughed.

Sombra and Amelie, despite their bickering, were visibly very much in love. Even with her scolding, Amelie had a smile on her face all over again; and Sombra was never without one in the first place unless a situation took a serious nose-dive. And for me, that was something that made my soul feel good.

Amelie Lacroix looked fully back to normal. Her skin had returned to its radiant glow; her hair was as gorgeous and navy as the first day we met. Her eyes were that same shade of a fearsome amber that made her impossible to ignore, and from the ways that Sombra looked at her, I could tell that it was working like a charm.

Sombra, on the other hand, was the same as ever. She looked unscathed, unbothered by the events that had so recently just passed, and stood in a wifebeater and boxer shorts before me. Amelie had made a vague attempt at getting dressed, but it was clear to see both of them were settled in.

Sombra flopped back down onto the sofa; spreading her arms along either side of the headboard, as Amelie looked at both Angela and I politely.

“May I take your coats? I can get you something to drink, if you want.”

I smiled up at the woman who had brought all of this to our attention in the first place; and she smiled at me.

“…Sure.”

We talked for a long time, that day. They told us all about how they had managed to get a helicopter from an empty depot used to store old militia aircrafts about two hours from town. I laughed when they mentioned that my mother had pulled some army strings to get access to the place; unused favours always did come in handy later in life, she said. How right she was.

“Your mother’s really something, isn’t she?” Angela said in amazement. I laughed.

“You could say that.”

“I tell you,” Sombra began, taking a sip of her drink. “It was nerve-wracking being on the edge of the helicopter like that. I felt like I was gonna plummet to death.”

“That’s how we felt when you guys walked away. I wish you could have given us an indicator.”

Amelie furrowed her brow. Sombra shook her head into her drink.

“Amelie puked, you know. We had to pull over on the side of the road so she could throw up.”

Angela and I looked at the Frenchwoman awkwardly wringing her hands together.

“Sombra, why did you tell them that…”

“No, come on. They want to know the full story.” Sombra began, turning to us almost accusingly. “You both should have known better than to think we’d go off and abandon you. Just who do you think we are?”

I folded my arms.

“Well, you can’t really blame us, Sombra. Given Moira offered you something so beneficial. If Angela was in Amelie’s position, I’d of done the same thing.”

“Fareeha…”

“No…” Amelie began, placing a hand on Sombra’s lap as she sat down next to her. “Fareeha is right. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you. But we also didn’t know what kind of questions they’d ask you. If they knew you had an outside source…they might have killed you then and there.”

Sombra bit her lip.

“…I know it was a risky gamble. But sometimes…sometimes they really are unavoidable.”

I paused, and Angela and I exchanged a look. I knew I couldn’t deny what they were saying, or blame them for the ways that they felt. And it was a gamble that had paid off, after all.

I sighed.

“…Alright. I know. And believe me, I understand.”

We stayed for a little while, with Sombra and Amelie, to patch things up fully and for them to further explain themselves; to rebuild the friendships that we thought we had lost so suddenly. But Sombra showed me just how much she had grown – the ways that she looked at Amelie Lacroix were like that of a treasure that she couldn’t believe she had. For a woman who had spent her whole life stealing and reducing herself to stealthier means of survival, it was plain to see that she couldn’t believe the kind of woman that wanted to be hers.

“The side effects of the pills have finally cleared up,” Amelie told me. “So we’re all safe, Miss Amari. It’s all over, and…it’s all thanks to you.”

“Hey, you were the one who managed to get that winning shot, Miss Lacroix.”

Amelie laughed, and tucked a strand of her navy hair against her ear.

“…I would say it was very much a group effort, wouldn’t you?”

I nodded, and she grinned with delight at the newfound circumstance of her life.

Seeing Sombra and Amelie had reminded me that life is fragile. It’s never on a pre-determined path; you can change the course of your life with action. And having somebody who made you feel like life was worth living after all?

Perhaps that was the best part of life after all.

 “Fareeha?”

I blinked, snapped out of my own thoughts, and turned to face the beautiful, blonde Swiss woman on my arm; looking as pretty as a picture in the park in the sunlight of May.

At the end of this escapade, I’m the luckiest woman alive. Angela’s arms are wrapped around my own, and her outfit is just as beautiful as she; a pastel blue summer dress, with a golden necklace that I had bought her a few weeks ago as a gift for Valentine’s day. The money to buy her an engagement ring is burning a hole in my pocket.

I can’t help but smirk, and I know I have to kiss her forehead. The birds are chattering around us, and the trees are blowing calmly in the spring breeze. The sounds of the river’s water is flowing calmly as we walk along the bank, and I could swear I’m lost in a dream.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I was a bit lost in thought there.”

“I can tell!” Angela replies with a touch of laughter in her voice, and a squeeze against my arm as we stroll through the park. I can’t help but look at her golden hair bathing in the sun’s radiant rays of spring. “What were you thinking about?”

And as we walk, taking in the vivid green grass, the ocean blue of the river besides us, the sound of bicycle bells ringing off in the distance – I firmly hold the rough handle of our picnic hamper in my hand, and kiss her lips.

Angela blushes with a grin from ear to ear, and places a hand to her lips.

“Honestly…Fareeha, you’re so charming!”

“Well, Angela Ziegler,” I say, with a big, bright grin as I place the hamper down next to our feet, holding her in an embrace we both know so well; I feel her arms wrap around my neck as we stand beneath this old, oak tree, and I say with a complete, final clarity,

“there’s no place in the world I’d rather be than right here with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


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